THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 


"Roy  Keith  thought  her  beautiful! 
What  did  it  matter  -whether  anyone 
thought  her  good  or  not?" 


M*RICMARO    BCEMM  — 


THE 
LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 


BY 

MARK  DANGER 


"Ignorance  it  the  curte  of  God, 

Knowledge  the  wing  wherewith  we  flv  to  heaven.' 


NEW  YORK 

THE  MACAULAY  COMPANY 
1913 


Copyright,  1913,  by 
THE  MACAULAY  COMPANY 


PREFACE 

I  had  just  begun  a  new  story  for  one  of  our  promi- 
nent newspapers,  when  a  well-known  doctor  was  an- 
nounced. 

When  I  say  that  he  is  well  known  I  do  not  mean 
that  he  is  an  idol  of  Mayfair  or  a  much  sought-after 
consultant,  though  I  have  no  doubt  that  he  could  have 
been  either,  for  he  has  brains,  appearance  and  sufficient 
means  of  his  own. 

But  for  some  reason  or  other  he  has  elected  to  de- 
vote himself  entirely  to  those  who  require  the  services 
of  the  Healer,  in  its  twofold  sense — the  Outcasts  of  So- 
ciety, the  gutter  dwellers  of  this  vast  City. 

"I  know  you're  keen  on  the  White  Slave  Traffic," 
he  began. 

"I  was,"  I  corrected.  "But  now  the  Bill  is  passed 
my  keenness  has  lost  its  point.  Even  the  papers  have 
dropped  the  subject  which  they  no  doubt  consider 
stale." 

"Mark  Danger,"  he  reproved,  shaking  his  fine  head, 
"with  your  name  and  your  intelligence  I  expected  bet- 
ter things  of  you!  Both  the  papers  and  the  public 
are  wrong.  They  go  hammer  and  tongs  at  a  thing,  en- 
courage the  grossest  exaggeration  regarding  it  and  work 
it  to  death  until  one  step  towards  their  goal  is  made, 
like  the  passing  of  this  Bill — and  then  they  drop  it  like 
a  useless  bauble.  In  other  words,  they  forsake  the  fight. 
Having  gained  one  Victory  they  think  the  battle  won. 
But  is  it  ?  Those  they  have  been  denouncing  know  quite 
well  that  it  is  not.  That,  if  they  lie  low  for  a  time, 
their  chance  will  come  again.  And,  also,  they  remem- 

6 


6  PKEFACE 

ber  what  you,  and  the  others,  have  forgotten  all  along, 
that  greater  than  their  power  is  that  of  the  lure. 
Throughout  this  noble  crusade  how  many  have  recalled 
the  moth  which  cannot  resist  the  flame — which  seeks  it 
unceasingly — returns  to  it  despite  its  injuries — is  finally 
destroyed  by  it?  No  one  drives  it  there — the  flame 
does  not  go  to  it — it  was  merely  lured  there  by  the 
brightness  and  the  warmth." 

"Now  these  papers,"  he  undid  a  bulky  parcel  as  he 
spoke,  "tell  a  true  story  from  its  beginning  to  its  end. 
The  story  of  a  White  Slave  who,  without  trickery,  kid- 
napping or  brutality,  found  herself  ensnared  forever 
by  the  lure,  through  vanity  perhaps,  but  above  all 
through  ignorance.  For,  don't  forget,  Danger,  'Igno- 
rance is  the  Devil's  best  asset.'  And  that's  why  I  am 
here,  now,  just  when  you  wish  me  at  the  Antipodes, 
no  doubt.  But  if  anyone  can  help  me,  you  are  the 
man." 

"How!"  I  asked. 

"I  want  to  warn  the  probable  victims  of  a  horrible 
life  by  telling  them  this  true  story.  But  I  have  not 
an  agile  pen.  These  papers,  various  letters,  a  diary, 
a  manuscript  or  two,  were  left  to  me  by  a  dying  woman 
whom  I  attended  in  misery,  poverty,  appalling  disease. 
She  was  still  young,  still  beautiful,  still,  I  venture  to 
believe,  capable  of  some  good  or  she  would  not  have 
asked  me  to  use  her  life-history  for  the  salvation  of  oth- 
ers, who  were  still  as  innocent,  and  ignorant  of  evil, 
as  she  once  was.  Borne  on  the  troubled  waters  of  ill- 
fortune,  buffeted  by  the  hopelessness  of  subsistence  on 
low  wages,  by  unsatisfied  longings  and  desires,  she  had 
drifted  slowly  but  surely  towards  the  lure.  Like  the 
moth  she  had  tried  to  go  elsewhere — but  ever  came 
back,  unable,  nay  unwilling,  to  stay  away.  That  is 
what  I  want  you  to  tell  about,  Danger — using  her  true 


PREFACE  7 

story  to  show  how  easy  it  is  to  drift  into  sin — how  im- 
possible to  escape  from  its  consequences.  Write  it  your 
own  way,  whichever  it  is  I  know  you  must  do  good. 
But — don't  decide  yet.  Think  it  over,  and  let  me  know 
later  what  you  mean  to  do." 

Well,  I  thought  it  over.  With  the  result  that  the 
other  story  was  laid  aside.  May  the  warning  of  Zoe's 
life  open  many  eyes  to  the  dangers  which  may  beset 
them,  or  those  they  love — may  the  message  by  one  White 
Slave  reach  far  and  wide  to  those  who  do  not  realize 
that  publicity  is  the  surest  cure  for  such  evils — that  but 
for  mock  prudery  and  ignorance  half  the  dungeons  in 
hell  must  perforce  be  closed. 

MARK  DANGER. 


The  Lure  of  the  Flame 


CHAPTER  I 

TO  the  last  day  of  her  life  Zoe  never  saw  a  couple 
standing  in  close  converse  under  the  feeble  light 
of  a  street  lamp,  without  recalling  a  vivid  picture  of 
the  man  and  woman  she  had  seen  in  a  dreary  back 
street,  in  the  old  town  of  Sainte  Croix,  the  night  she 
ran  away  from  school. 

There  was  something  so  evil  in  their  faces,  so  sin- 
ister in  the  glance  they  threw  at  her — a  hatless,  dishev- 
eled, miserable  little  girl — that  she  took  to  her  heels 
again. 

But  as  she  turned  the  corner  into  the  Rue  des  Co- 
lombes  she  pulled  up  suddenly  to  avoid  colliding  with 
two  men  who  drew  back,  exclaiming: 

''Hallo!     Steady  now!" 

" Hallo!    What's  the  matter?" 

"It's  those  horrid  people,"  she  gasped,  glancing  back 
apprehensively. 

They  were  just  as  surprised  to  hear  her  answer  them 
in  English  as  she  had  been  to  hear  them  speak  it,  for 
one  of  them  laughed,  saying: 

"By  the  Holy  Moses,  Hales!  They  speak  it  even 
here!" 

But  the  other  paid  no  heed  as  he  turned  to  her  and 
asked : 

11 


12  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

"What  people  do  you  mean?" 

She  explained  hurriedly,  a  little  confused,  for  she 
realized  that  the  evil  she  had  seen  in  those  shadowy  faces 
was  worse  than  anything  she  knew,  though  at  the  same 
time  she  could  not  help  noticing  that  these  strangers 
were  very  different  to  the  provencial  Frenchmen  she 
was  used  to  seeing — that  they  were  decidedly  English, 
and  nice  English  at  that. 

What  luck  for  her !  If  only  she  could  pluck  up  cour- 
age to  ask  them  to  help  her  she  would  certainly  get 
back  to  London  and  home  much  sooner  than  she  had 
dared  to  hope.  For,  soon  after  leaving  the  sheltering 
walls  of  Madame  Delorme's  school  she  had  realized  that 
she  had  not  a  farthing  piece  upon  her,  and  knew  no  one 
in  the  town.  True,  deep  down  in  her  heart  she  had  not 
thought  much  of  what  she  meant  to  do.  The  chief  thing 
was  to  frighten  Mademoiselle  Berthe,  the  adored 
mistress  who  had  been  unkind  to  her — to  soften  her 
heart. 

The  grave-eyed  man,  whose  name  was  Hales,  evi- 
dently thought  she  had  behaved  very  childishly  in  run- 
ning away  just  because  Mademoiselle  Berthe  had  sent 
her  to  Coventry,  for  he  said  nothing  as  she  ended  her 
breathless  story,  though  the  other — tall,  also,  with  a 
merry  face  and  laughing  eyes,  exclaimed: 

"Poor  little  kid!    What  a  damned  shame!" 

He  said  it  so  feelingly  that  the  tears  rushed  to  her 
eyes,  and,  although  she  blinked  them  back  as  hard  as 
she  could,  they  would  have  their  way. 

"Hush,  Roy,"  said  Hales  reprovingly,  as  taking  Zoe 
by  the  arm  he  went  on :  "You're  cold  and  tired.  Come 
into  this  shop  and  have  some  chocolate  while  we  decide 
what  you  ought  to  do." 

He  drew  her  towards  the  confectioner's  behind  them 
and,  as  she  had  never  been  inside  it  and  had  no  fear 
of  being  recognized,  and  cared  even  less  if  she  were, 


THE  LURE  0$  THE  FLAME  13 

Zoe  let  him  lead  her  to  a  table  in  a  quiet  corner,  where 
she  sat  down  with  a  sudden  pang  of  hunger,  as  she  re- 
membered that  she  had  been  too  unhappy  to  eat  that 
day. 

"Why  were  you  sent  to  Coventry?"  asked  Roy,  look- 
ing kindly  into  her  face. 

"Because  they  believed  that  I  had  been  writing  to  a 
horrid  pimply-faced  boy  at  the  college.  But  I  didn't — 
though  I  know  who  did.  So,  as  I'm  the  dog  with  a 
bad  name  I  have  to  bear  the  brunt.  But  it  would  be 
horrid  for  her  to  own  up,  when  he  doesn't  care  for  her 
—and—" 

' '  How  do  you  know  that  ? ' ' 

"Because  he  never  looks  at  her." 

"Who  does  he  look  at?" 

"Well — if  you  will  know — he  stares  at  me.  They  all 
do,  because  I'm  the  only  English  girl,  I  suppose — 
and—" 

She  faltered,  knowing  quite  well  that  was  not  the 
true  reason.  Had  not  her  mirror  told  her  how  beau- 
tiful she  was?  Anyhow,  Roy's  eyes  said  so  plainly 
enough  as  he  exclaimed  laughingly: 

' '  So  you  're  a  sort  of  curiosity,  of  course !  Is  the  other 
girl  pretty?" 

"Yes — if  you  like  big  brown  eyes  and — " 

"I  don't.  I  prefer  dark  gray  ones  with  long,  black 
lashes;  and  soft  chestnut  hair,  and  lips  like — " 

"Don't  be  a  fool,"  whispered  Mr.  Hales,  with  a 
frown.  And  Zoe,  who  was  not  supposed  to  hear,  looked 
down  at  her  chocolate  with  a  strange  feeling  about  her 
heart. 

For  she  did  not  think  Roy  a  fool  for  looking  at  her, 
nor,  for  the  matter  of  that,  did  she  think  the  pimply 
boy  one.  She  would  hate  to  be  like  poor  little  Marthe 
Luce  who  was  so  ugly  that  none  of  the  college  boys,  who 
sat  on  the  other  side  of  the  church  to  that  occupied  by 


14  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

the  pupils  of  the  Pension  Delorme,  were  even  known 
to  glance  at  her  with  anything  but  disgust.  So  ugly 
that  her  life  must  be  an  even  greater  burden  than  Zoe 'a 
had  seemed  to-day. 

"And  what  do  you  mean  to  do,  Miss  Zoe?"  asked  Mr. 
Hales. 

"Go  home,  of  course.    What  else  can  I  do?" 

"Change  your  mind  and  face  the  music  like  the  brave 
girl  I'm  sure  you  are." 

"Never!"  she  cried.  "There  would  be  a  dreadful 
row,  and — " 

"That  would  be  better  than  going  home  like  this,"  he 
replied  gravely,  his  eyes  scanning  her  face. 

"Don't  listen  to  him!"  exclaimed  Roy.  "He's  going 
to  be  a  parson,  so  thinks  it's  his  duty  to  preach.  You 
needn't  look  so  cross,  old  boy,  but  I  mean  to  help  Miss 
Zoe  all  I  can,  and  you  know  you'd  like  to  also.  What 
are  we  coming  to  if  we  can't  be  as  brave  as  knights  of 
old  and  rescue  distressed  damsels  when  they  come  our 
way?" 

"To  rescue  one  from  an  act  of  folly  she  might  regret 
all  her  life,  is  a  greater  deed  of  prowess  than  to  help 
her  to  commit  it,"  said  the  elder  man,  looking  kindly  at 
Zoe. 

She  blushed,  knowing  that  he  was  right,  knowing  that 
he  thought  her  a  foolish  little  girl.  Only  she  could  not 
help  pouting  and  feeling  annoyed  with  him.  Yet,  as 
he  went  on,  urging  her  to  face  the  music,  the  thought  of 
distressing  her  widowed  mother  mingled  with  that  of 
never  seeing  Mademoiselle  Berthe  again.  She  had  never 
realized  what  that  would  mean  until  now.  And  al- 
though Roy  interrupted  now  and  then,  telling  her  not 
to  mind  old  Hales,  who,  if  he  was  his  tutor,  was  cer- 
tainly not  his  keeper  and  could  not  prevent  his  acting 
as  her  banker  until  she  got  home — or  for  the  matter 
of  that,  taking  her  back  himself,  as  he  was  sick  of  this 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME  15 

beastly  walking  tour,  she  shook  her  head  at  him  and 
rose  suddenly. 

"You've  won,"  she  said,  looking  at  Hales.  "Ill  go 
back." 

He  smiled  approvingly. 

"That's  a  brave  girl.  I  knew  you  would.  And  of 
course  Mr.  Keith  did  too — " 

"He  tried  hard  enough  to  lead  me  into  temptation," 
she  laughed.  "And  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  now,  why 
I'm  doing  what  you  want." 

"Because  it's  what  you  want  yourself,"  he  smiled. 
"Come — we'll  take  you  back,  if  you  like." 

And  so,  presently,  she  found  herself  once  more  out- 
side the  familiar  gates  in  the  narrow  cobbled  streets 
where  the  Pension  Delorme  had  stood  through  many 
generations;  world-famed  almost,  as  one  of  the  princi- 
pal French  Protestant  schools;  the  other,  the  boys' 
college  a  few  streets  off. 

If  by  any  chance  the  side  door  had  been  locked  she 
would  have  to  ring  and  so  proclaim  her  escapade  to 
all  who  cared  to  know, — perhaps  be  refused  admittance. 
She  held  her  breath  at  the  thought  and  frankly  hoped 
it  would  happen ;  for  then  Mr.  Hales  would  not  say  she 
had  not  faced  the  music,  and  next  to  being  admired  for 
her  looks  Zoe  loved  praise  for  her  deeds. 

"Good-by,"  said  Hales,  as  they  parted,  "and  good 
luck." 

"Good-by,"  said  Keith,  smiling,  "and  if  you  regret 
this  virtuous  step  remember  that  we  are  at  the  Hotel 
de  la  Boule  d'Or  until  to-morrow — when  we  resume  our 
weary  tramp  onwards." 

"Good-by  and  thank  you — "  said  Zoe,  her  heart  too 
full  for  more. 

The  handle  yielded  to  her  touch  and  the  door  swung 
open  upon  a  dark  tunnel  of  a  passage  which  she  entered 
tremblingly.  But  not  without  one  more  glance  at  the 


16  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

two  watching  her — one  more  keen  scrutiny  of  the 
younger  man's  face  which,  seen  in  the  dim  light  of  the 
lamp  overhead,  looked  almost  like  a  woman's,  so  ethereal 
was  its  beauty. 

"I  shall  remember  it  until  I  die,"  thought  Zoe,  as 
she  closed  the  door  and  swallowed  a  sob. 

And  yet  there  was  nothing  wonderful  about  it,  after 
all — just  a  handsome,  clean-cut  aquiline  profile — eyes 
as  blue  as  the  sky,  hair  which  must  have  curled  beau- 
tifully during  his  babyhood  judging  by  the  delicious 
crink  it  showed  now,  a  laughing  mouth.  A  face  show- 
ing more  weakness  than  strength  and  none  of  the  firm 
reliability  of  his  friend's,  yet  most  women  were  at- 
tracted by  it  first,  many  broke  their  hearts  because  of  it. 
And  Zoe,  whose  fate  had  been  more  or  less  shaped  that 
night,  was  indeed  to  remember  it  until  she  died. 

She  was  just  at  that  impressionable  age  when  the 
longings  of  latent  womanhood  clamor  for  an  outlet,  with- 
out explaining  what  they  mean.  "Sweet  Seventeen" 
the  poet  called  it,  because,  being  a  mere  man,  he  had 
no  knowledge  of  the  "bitter  Seventeen"  she  really  is 
with  her  difficult  moods  and  constant  frowns. 

Some  girls  are  hardly  troubled  by  these  strange  feel- 
ings and  regard  them  more  or  less  as  they  would  an 
attack  of  indigestion ;  many  expend  them  on  each  other, 
hence  those  close  schoolgirl  friendships  which  are  as 
easily  dissolved  as  they  are  formed.  Others,  however, 
have  a  vague  inkling  of  their  raison  d'etre,  and  turn  as 
naturally  to  the  other  sex  as  the  pendulum  swings  from 
right  to  left.  If  it  is  not  available,  they  are  consumed 
with  passion  for  some  woman  older  than  themselves — 
a  heroine  of  perfection  instead  of  a  hero  of  delight. 

Such  a  girl  was  Zoe,  whose  affectionate  nature  poured 
out  its  wealth  of  love,  for  want  of  a  better  object,  at 
the  feet  of  Mademoiselle  Berthe,  an  anasmic  young 
woman  with  a  face  like  a  Madonna  and  a  voice  like  a 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME  17 

silver  bell.  Her  smile,  which  she  had  practiced  before 
her  looking-glass,  plunged  the  child  into  an  ecstasy  of 
delight;  her  frown,  into  a  hell  of  misery. 

But  this  night's  adventure  had  altered  all  that. 
Whilst  Roy  Keith  went  his  way  with  Humphrey  Hales 
thinking  but  slightly,  if  at  all,  of  the  little  schoolgirl, 
she  placed  his  image  on  the  pedestal  Mademoiselle 
Berthe  had  occupied,  somewhat  to  the  later  surprise  of 
that  young  woman  who  had  been  proud  of  her  conquest 
of  the  "petite  Anglaise,"  and  had  merely  sent  her  to 
Coventry  for  the  pleasure  of  seeing  her  suffer,  much 
as  a  cat  plays  with  a  mouse. 

For  there  was  a  vein  of  cruelty  in  the  Madonna  of 
the  school,  as  there  so  often  is  in  these  thin-lipped,  pure- 
browed,  women  whose  cold  acceptance  of  homage  goad 
many  a  man  to  his  doom. 

Zoe  could  hardly  believe  that  her  absence  during  the 
recreation  hours  had  passed  unnoticed,  and  yet  it  was 
plain  enough  that  no  one  showed  undue  surprise  when 
she  entered  the  large  classroom  at  prayer  time. 

How  she  longed  to  blurt  out  the  truth;  to  fling  a 
bomb  into  the  midst  of  these  smug,  self-satisfied  girls 
who  still  regarded  her  as  pariah,  even  those  who  had 
pretended  to  be  her  friends.  Luckily,  however,  she  re- 
strained the  impulse  and  followed  them  silently  to  the 
dormitories  with  a  feeling  of  contempt,  not  unmixed 
with  hatred,  instead  of  the  despairing  misery  which  she 
had  found  unbearable. 

As  she  passed  the  graceful  figure  of  the  young  gov- 
erness and  glanced  up  into  her  brown  eyes,  she  was 
surprised  how  little  she  really  cared  whether  they  re- 
turned her  look  or  not,  for  the  vision  of  Roy  Keith's 
smile  filled  her  mind,  and  his  caressing  words  rang 
through  her  heart: 

"I  prefer  dark  gray  eyes  with  long,  black  lashes,  and 
chestnut  hair  and  lips  like  ..." 


18  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

So  she  passed  out,  head  high  and  face  aglow.  For 
instead  of  offering  a  gift  which  might  be  spurned  she 
had  herself  received  one,  the  homage  of  a  god. 

She  had  not  gone  far  when  Mademoiselle  Berthe  called 
her  back. 

"Are  you  sorry,  ma  petite?"  she  asked. 

"What  for,  Mademoiselle?" 

The  brown  eyes  widened.  There  was  a  note  in  the 
girl's  voice  Mademoiselle  had  never  heard  before,  more- 
over the  pleading,  suppliant  look  was  missing  from  the 
little  pale  face. 

"Because  I  was  grieved — and  sad,"  she  murmured. 
"Ah,  my  Zoe,  if  you  knew  how  pained  I  am  to  see  you 
in  disgrace,  to  know  that  you  are  an  unhappy  little 
girl-" 

"No,"  interrupted  Zoe,  "I'm  unhappy  no  longer,  Ma- 
demoiselle. I  was  foolish  to  mind  at  all  when  I  have 
done  nothing  wrong — nothing.  And  if  you  still  believe 
I  have,  I  don't  really  care,  as  I  thought  I  did — " 

And  she  turned  away,  careless  of  the  effect  of 
her  words,  glad  that  she  had  not  said  she  had  tried 
to  run  away  because  Mademoiselle  was  displeased  with 
her. 

What  a  goose  she  had  been  to  mind  that!  And  yet, 
no — for  if  she  had  not  minded  she  would  never  have 
seen  Roy  Keith — who  liked  her  eyes,  her  hair,  her  lips 
and — what  was  he  going  to  say  about  her  lips  when  Mr. 
Hales  called  him  a  fool? 

All  through  that  night  she  dreamt  of  Roy — all 
through  the  succeeding  day,  indifferent  to  Mademoi- 
selle Berthe 's  puzzled  look,  to  her  coaxing  words. 

For  she  had  drunk  of  the  admiration  in  a  man's  eyes, 
and  her  whole  being  was  aflame  with  exultation. 

Roy  Keith  thought  her  beautiful!  What  did  it  mat- 
ter whether  Mademoiselle  Berthe,  or  anyone  else,  thought 
her  good  or  not? — 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME  19 

On  the  third  day  she  was  summoned  to  Madame 
Delorme's  study,  and  went,  wondering  if  the  real  cul- 
prit had  confessed,  or  if  another  letter  had  been  found. 
Her  lip  curled  at  the  thought.  If  they  knew  what  she 
knew,  could  they  believe  she  would  even  dream  of  writ- 
ing to  a  silly  college  boy? 

But,  as  she  opened  the  door,  the  sight  of  the  confec- 
tioner's wife  told  her  what  had  happened,  and  she 
stepped  in  hesitatingly,  her  eyes  widening  with  fear,  her 
cheeks  pale. 

Madame  Delorme  nodded  emphatically.  All  the  signs 
of  guilt  were  there.  She  could  not  doubt  a  word  of 
what  she  had  just  heard — incredible  as  it  seemed. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  whole  story  was  out,  and  an- 
other indelible  picture  traced  in  the  gallery  of  Zoe's 
mind. 

How  often  in  after  years  did  she  recall  it ! 

There  was  Madame  Delorme,  white  with  rage  and  in- 
dignation ;  Madame  Vigny,  the  fat,  red-faced  bourgeoise, 
with  apologetic  eyes,  and — a  little  apart — Mademoiselle 
Berthe — a  smile  curving  her  thin  lips. 

Strange  to  say,  it  was  she  who  had  discovered  every- 
thing by  a  chance  visit  to  the  shop.  Poor  Madame 
Vigny  had  let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag,  without  guessing 
what  harm  she  did,  as  she  inquired  feelingly  after  the 
"belle  petite  Anglaise"  who  had  seemed  so  upset  when 
her  friends  had  brought  her  to  the  shop.  Perhaps  they 
were  uncles — or,  even  brothers!  though  the  resemblance 
was  certainly  very  slight. 

At  first  Mademoiselle  Berthe  had  not  understood — 
but  as  the  woman  went  on  to  describe  Zoe,  saying  she 
had  seen  her  constantly  with  the  school,  and  noticed 
her  as  no  one  could  help  doing,  the  truth  had  dawned 
upon  her.  She  recalled  Zoe's  indifference,  her  strange 
words,  her  cold  manner.  She  was  like  a  naughty  little 
dog  who  refused  to  do  his  tricks ;  who  no  longer  fawned 


20  THE  LURE  OP  THE  FLAME 

upon  the  hand  caressing  him,  no  longer  cringed  when 
frowned  upon. 

So  the  story  was  carried  to  Madame,  and  the  shop- 
keeper was  summoned  and  Zoe  made  to  confess. 

But  if  she  suffered  as  she  told  her  story,  she  did  not 
show  it.  For  the  memory  of  that  night  was  vivid 
enough  to  give  her  strength  and  she  seemed  to  hear 
Hales  urging  her  to  face  the  music,  and  Keith  echoing 
his  words. 

Well,  she  was  doing  it  as  best  she  could,  not  even 
a  martyr  could  do  more. 

There  was  a  tense  silence  when  she  had  finished,  and 
Madame  Vigny  rose  to  go.  She  looked  kindly  at  the 
poor  child  as  she  passed,  but  Zoe's  eyes  were  on  Ma- 
demoiselle Berthe.  She  was  wondering  how  Mademoi- 
selle could  have  been  so  cruel  as  to  repay  her  devotion 
in  such  fashion.  She  forgot  that  her  devotion  had 
seemed  to  cool  and  knew  nothing  yet  about  the  strange 
ways  in  which  even  an  indifferent  recipient  will  repay 
such  cooling  off. 

Mademoiselle  Berthe  followed  the  sorrowful  woman 
and  Zoe  was  left  alone  with  Madame.  She  had  had 
many  such  moments  before,  but  this  was  to  be  the  last. 

Madame  had  never  understood  the  girl,  had  never 
really  liked  her.  Her  mother  did  not  pay  full  fees  and 
there  were  several  others  awaiting  vacancies.  Besides, 
putting  all  this  aside,  Zoe  was  hardly  a  fit  companion 
for  the  other  girls,  not  a  single  one  of  whom  would 
dream  of  stealing  out  of  school  after  dark,  or  indeed 
at  any  time,  to  keep  a  rendezvous  with  strange  men! 
How  the  rendezvous  had  been  arranged  she  neither 
knew  nor  cared,  Zoe's  word  was  unreliable  anyhow, 
and  if  there  ever  had  been  a  doubt  as  to  her  having 
written  the  letters  found  at  the  boys'  school,  that  doubt 
no  longer  existed. 

"I  shall  write  to  your  mother  and  tell  her  that  I  can- 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME  21 

not  keep  you,"  she  said,  as  she  ended  her  sermon. 
"  Meanwhile  you  must  go  to  the  punishment  room  until 
I  have  heard  from  her — I  cannot  let  you  be  with  the 
others  after  this." 

Though  she  smarted  with  the  injustice  of  it  all,  Zoe 
took  her  dismissal  in  silence,  telling  herself  that  it  was 
no  good  saying  anything,  but  wishing  with  all  her  heart 
that  she  had  not  come  back  to  face  the  music  which  was 
so  feeble,  so  terribly  out  of  tune. 

She  blinked  back  her  tears  as  she  closed  the  door  be- 
hind her.  After  all,  what  did  she  care?  She  wanted 
to  go  home.  And  Madame  Delorme  was  a  pig  who  had 
not  the  sense  to  know  when  she  was  being  told  the  truth. 
For  every  word  she  had  spoken  had  been  true — she  had 
only  withheld  one  thing — her  real  reason  for  running 
away  that  night.  Not  for  worlds  would  she  have  Ma- 
demoiselle Berthe  know  that. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  punishment  room  was  at  the  top  of  the  house, 
far  away  from  the  bustle  of  the  classrooms.  Its 
window,  grimed  with  dust,  looked  down  upon  the  gar- 
den, which  was  more  or  less  deserted  at  this  time  of 
year.  Beyond,  over  the  high  white  wall,  there  was  a 
glimpse  of  the  beautiful  clustering  roofs  of  the  ancient 
town,  of  the  church  tower,  of  the  silvery  river  Derdogne. 

But  Zoe  knew  this  view  by  heart,  and  hated  it  in- 
tensely. In  fact,  she  hated  everything,  and  everyone, 
just  now,  and  none  more  than  Mademoiselle  Berthe  who 
had  betrayed  her,  and  for  whom  she  would  have  laid 
down  her  life  a  week  ago. 

At  first  no  one  came  near  her  but  a  sour-faced  old 
servant  who  had  been  there  for  years,  and  knew  ex- 
actly how  to  manage  troublesome  girls.  But  Zoe  gave 
her  no  trouble.  She  did  not  even  refuse  the  unappe- 
tizing meals  brought  up  on  a  greasy  black  tray  and 
dumped  down  on  the  deal  table — without  a  cloth. 

Other  girls  had  objected  to  this — so  had  Zoe  at  other 
times,  but  the  fun  of  getting  a  rise  out  of  the  disagree- 
able old  woman,  of  making  her  speak  for  the  sake  of 
hearing  a  human  voice  no  longer  appealed  to  her.  She 
wanted  to  be  alone. 

On  the  second  day  she  had  a  visitor — Monsieur  Ro- 
land, the  pastor  of  the  Protestant  church — a  barn  as 
cold  and  bare  as  the  creed  practiced  therein. 

He  was  a  youngish  man  of  spare  habit,  with  lank  hair 
and  a  hatchet  face.  His  eyes  had  something  of  the 
light  of  genius  in  their  pale  depths. 

22 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME  23 

Old  Clotilde  ushered  him  in  and  remained  near  the 
door.  But  Zoe  did  not  notice  her.  She  resented  the 
pastor's  visit  and  frowned,  retorting  rudely,  as  he  ex- 
pressed his  sorrow  for  her  disgrace,  that  of  course  he 
believed  all  he  was  told,  but  she  did  not  care.  She  was 
going  away  from  him  and  all  he  represented.  She  never 
wished  to  see  Sainte  Croix  again  or  anyone  belonging 
to  it. 

"Tell  me  the  whole  truth,"  he  said  quietly,  "and  I 
will  see  what  I  can  do. ' ' 

' '  You  can  do  nothing,  Monsieur,  for  I  have  told  them. 
The  only  thing  I  kept  back  was  my  real  reason  for  run- 
ning away.  I  said  it  was  because  I  was  unhappy — but 
it  was  not  for  that — nor  was  it  arranged,  as  I  see  you 
have  been  told — it  was  because  somebody  in  the  school 
was  cross  with  me — somebody  I  thought  I  loved,  she 
seemed  so  good.  But  now — I  hate  her,  for  she  is  even 
wickeder  than  they  think  me.  She  is  false  and  deceit- 
ful— and  so  are  all  the  girls.  I  shall  never  believe  in 
another  woman,  except  my  mother — never — " 

"But,  my  poor  child — if  you  go  to  another  school 
with  these  ideas — " 

"I  shall  not  go  to  another  school.  For  one  thing, 
what  school  would  have  me?  For  another,  I  am  old 
enough  to  leave.  I  was  going  home  for  good  at  the 
end  of  the  term;  I  am  only  going  a  little  sooner,  that 
is  all.  And  your  prayers  can  do  me  no  good.  If  I 
ever  have  anything  to  do  with  religion  again,  I  shall 
become  a  nun." 

She  said  it  to  shock  him — for  she  had  never  thought 
of  it  before.  And  just  because  he  showed  no  sign  of 
being  shocked,  only  looked  a  little  graver  if  anything, 
she  felt  annoyed  and  went  on  recklessly: 

"There  is  too  much  cant  here,  too  much  talk  of  sin 
and  its  consequences.  If  to  be  good  is  to  be  dull  and 


24  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

stupid  like  all  the  people  here,  I  would  rather  be  wicked. 
And  if  they  are  going  to  heaven,  well  then,  may  I  go 
to  hell!" 

"Mademoiselle!"  cried  Clotilde,  horrified.  "If  you 
talk  like  that  to  Monsieur  I  shall  fetch  Madame." 

"Fetch  her.  It  would  do  her  good  to  hear  what  I 
think  of  her  for  once,"  exclaimed  Zoe,  turning  on  her. 
"Fetch  them  all,  and  let  them  hear  what  the  English 
girl  has  to  say.  That's  why  they  are  so  horrid  and 
cruel,  because  I  stand  alone.  And  so,  Monsieur  Ro- 
land, a  cunning  old  wretch  like  Clotilde,  who  is  as 
mean  as  anyone  can  be,  is  going  to  heaven,  is  she?" 

Clotilde  stood  livid  with  rage  as  Zoe  looked  laugh- 
ingly across  at  her. 

"You  know,  Mademoiselle  Zoe,  that  you  do  not  mean 
what  you  say,"  said  Monsieur  Roland,  looking  sadly 
into  her  angry  face. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  do.  Just  as  I  know  that  you  think  me 
beyond  redemption,  only  you  are  too  polite  to  say  so." 

"I  think  you  are  a  foolish,  mistaken  girl,  Mademoi- 
selle." 

"Do  you  think  me  wicked?" 

"I  have  told  you  what  I  think." 

"Don't  you  think  me  as  wicked  as  they  say  I  am?" 
She  moved  closer  to  him  as  she  spoke,  forcing  his  eyes 
to  hers. 

"No,  I  do  not  think  you  wicked,  Mademoiselle,"  he 
replied  slowly,  a  slight  flush  covering  his  face.  "But 
I  believe  you  have  the  power  of  becoming  either  a  very 
good  woman,  or  a  very  wicked  one." 

"Why,  Monsieur?" 

The  color  deepened  in  his  face,  he  turned  his  eyes 
away,  but  not  before  she  had  seen  the  faint  glint  of 
admiration  in  them — the  look  she  was  beginning  to  seek 
for,  in  most  eyes. 

Her  anger  and  despair  vanished,  her  vanity  awoke. 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME  25 

He  too  saw  she  was  beautiful — he,  the  solemn  pastor 
of  Ste.  Croix! 

"Why,  Monsieur?"  she  repeated  sweetly. 

He  brought  his  gaze  back  to  her  face.  It  was  cold 
and  aloof,  just  as  his  face  was  as  immovable  as  ever. 

"Well,  Mademoiselle  Zoe,"  he  said  gravely,  "as  you 
are  going  into  the  world  I  may  as  well  tell  you.  God 
has  given  you  a  great  gift,  the  gift  of  beauty.  Take 
care  that  you  use  it  properly,  that  you  do  not  make 
of  it  a  curse." 

That  was  all.  She  was  alone.  He  had  neither 
prayed  nor  preached.  Evidently  he  thought  her  hope- 
less— or,  was  he  afraid  of  her? 

"God  has  given  you  a  great  gift — the  gift  of  beauty." 

He  had  said  that — if  he  said  it,  others  knew  it.  How 
could  she  make  of  it  a  curse? 

She  drew  an  open  lesson  book  to  her  and  sat  down. 
But  her  eyes  did  not  read  the  words  before  her.  They 
were  visioning  those  pale  gray  ones,  lit  by  the  admira- 
tion she  had  seen  in  Keith's  blue  ones,  in  Hales',  in  the 
college  boys'.  And  a  little  smile  of  content  played 
round  her  lips.  She  would  rather  be  beautiful  in  the 
eyes  of  men  than  anything  else.  Why?  She  could 
not  tell — she  only  knew  it.  As  for  her  misusing  her 
beauty,  what  an  absurd  idea.  All  she  asked  was  that 
people  should  look  upon  her  with  pleasure,  as  she  her- 
self looked  upon  beautiful  things.  Surely  there  was 
no  harm  in  that!  But  what  had  he  meant  by  saying 
she  had  the  power  of  becoming  a  very  good  woman  or 
a  very  wicked  one?  And,  if  so,  how? 

She  puckered  her  brow  a  little  over  that,  and  then, 
as  she  possessed  the  faculty  of  forgetting  what  she 
neither  understood  nor  liked,  she  put  it  aside  with  a 
little  laugh  to  dwell  upon  the  memory  of  his  admira- 
tion, to  recall  the  meeting  with  Keith  and  Hales  and 
wonder  when  she  would  see  them  both  again,  if  ever. 


26  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

With  all  these  memories,  solitude  was  easy  enough  to 
bear.  It  was  only  when  the  shadows  deepened  in  the 
corners  and  a  pall  of  darkness  crept  over  the  objects 
in  the  room  that  she  wished  for  company.  For  the  evil 
faces  she  had  seen  in  the  street  seemed  then  to  come 
to  life,  peering  in  through  the  uncurtained  window, 
straining  towards  her  from  the  shadows,  coming  closer 
and  closer  as  she  undressed  hurriedly  and  slid  into 
bed  to  bury  her  face  under  the  clothes. 

For  she  did  not  find  it  so  easy  to  dismiss  that  mem- 
ory which  stirred  her  curiosity  to  its  depths.  Then,  too, 
came  the  puzzling  conjectures  as  to  what  her  mother 
would  say  and  do. 

Her  heart  misgave  her  somewhat,  when  she  thought 
of  the  gentle  loving  mother,  whose  whole  life  had  been 
devoted  to  her  child.  But  of  course  she  would  not  be- 
lieve Madame  Delorme's  version  when  once  Zoe  had 
told  her  everything.  And  so  it  was  foolish  to  worry 
instead  of  thinking  of  the  good  time  ahead. 

For,  although  Zoe  knew  that  she  might  have  to  teach 
French  and  music  to  one  or  two  small  children,  she 
quite  expected  to  enjoy  life  when  she  got  back  to  Sut- 
ton,  where  her  mother  had  made  a  name  for  herself 
as  professor  of  singing.  She  had  gone  to  Sutton  when 
Zoe  was  about  six  with  a  letter  of  introduction  to 
the  Vicar,  and  to  one  or  two  of  the  principal  inhabitants, 
with  the  result  that  her  welcome  had  been  unanimous. 
Had  these  people  known  that  the  pretty  young  widow 
was  in  reality  a  deserted  wife,  and  that  Major  Dere- 
ham  was  still  alive,  and  abroad  with  another  woman, 
it  is  doubtful  if  she  would  have  been  considered  suffi- 
ciently blameless  to  teach  the  children  of  the  elite  of 
Sutton,  such  as  it  was — and  still  more  to  be  received 
by  them  as  an  honored  guest  and  friend.  But  luckily 
the  innocent  do  sometimes  escape  the  consequences  of 
the  sins  of  others,  though  Mrs.  Dereham  had  received 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME  27 

more  than  her  share  in  having  to  slave  for  her  living 
as  she  did. 

Zoe,  however,  did  not  realize  that,  for  the  rooms  they 
had  taken  with  a  respectable  couple,  were  comfortably 
furnished  and  very  dainty;  and  the  girl  had  never 
asked  in  vain  for  anything,  nor  had  she  any  idea  of 
the  value  of  money. 

But  she  knew  quite  well  that  her  mother  could  not 
afford  to  fetch  her,  even  if  her  time  had  been  free,  and 
was  not  surprised  to  receive  a  letter  saying  that  she 
was  to  travel  her  usual  way,  by  sea,  from  Bordeaux 
to  London.  The  letter,  which  was  short  and  more  se- 
vere than  any  Zoe  had  ever  received  from  her,  brought 
the  tears  to  her  eyes,  though  she  brushed  them  away  in- 
dignantly as  she  told  herself  that  if  her  mother  really 
cared  for  her  she  could  never  have  written  like  that. 

Then  seeing  Clotilde  watching  her,  with  triumph  in 
her  wicked  old  eyes,  she  tore  the  letter  into  a  thou- 
sand pieces,  which  she  flung  angrily  at  the  woman's 
face. 

"You  old  spy-cat!"  she  cried.  "Get  out  of  here,  or 
I'll  kill  you." 

She  really  sounded  capable  of  any  crime,  but  Clotilde 
did  not  flinch.  She  was  used  to  girls'  tantrums  and 
this  was  not  her  first  encounter  with  Zoe.  Besides,  she 
owed  the  girl  something  for  what  she  had  said  about 
her  to  Monsieur  Roland. 

"Try  it,"  she  sneered.  "But  before  doing  so  give 
me  your  keys.  Madame  wants  your  trunk  packed  at 
once  and  sent  for  them." 

"If  Madame  wants  my  keys  she  can  fetch  them  her- 
self, for  I'm  not  going  to  trust  you  with  them,"  said 
Zoe. 

"You  think  I  want  your  dirty  keys  myself?"  splut- 
tered the  ugly  old  peasant. 

"It  seems  possible,"  smiled  Zoe. 


28  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

"What  for?     Do  you  call  me  a  thief?" 

"If  the  cap  fits,  I  do,"  said  Zoe  quietly. 

With  a  growl  of  rage,  Clotilde  flung  herself  upon 
the  girl,  mouthing  a  strange  jargon  as  unlike  French 
as  any  language  could  be,  which  was  just  as  well,  per- 
haps, for  Zoe  could  only  guess  at  what  she  meant. 

"Let  go — how  dare  you  touch  me?"  she  cried,  strug- 
gling to  free  herself.  But  Clotilde  held  tight.  She 
might  well  have  been  the  cat  Zoe  had  called  her,  for 
when  peasant  blood  is  up  there  is  little  to  distinguish 
it  from  that  of  other  animals. 

Thence  followed  a  breathless  struggle,  during  which 
Zoe  saw  red,  and  fought  hard  and  fiercely.  All  her 
anger  against  the  injustice  she  had  suffered  awoke,  all 
her  hatred  of  this  horrible  old  woman  burst  out.  She 
did  not  care  what  happened,  for  even  her  mother  was 
against  her. 

Suddenly  a  heavy  hand  fell  on  her  shoulder  and 
pulled  her  back. 

"Are  you  mad  that  you  try  to  kill  a  poor  old  woman 
like  that?"  demanded  Madame  Delorme  severely. 

Zoe  glared  from  her  astonished  face  at  Clotilde 's,  who 
dropped  panting  upon  a  chair. 

"No,  I  am  not  mad,"  she  said  breathlessly.  "And 
I  wish  I  had  killed  her.  She  touched  me  first,  though, 
and—" 

"Madame,  it  is  a  lie!"  cried  Clotilde. 

"Of  course,"  said  Madame.  "Just  try  to  calm  your- 
self, my  poor  girl.  As  for  you,  Zoe,  it  is  a  good  thing 
your  mother  has  sent  directions  for  your  immediate  re- 
turn to  her.  And  Mademoiselle  Berthe  will  do  your 
packing  if  you  give  her  the  keys." 

For  the  first  time  Zoe  realized  Mademoiselle  Berthe 's 
presence,  but  she  barely  glanced  at  her. 

"I  do  not  want  Mademoiselle  Berthe* to  pack  for  me," 
she  said. 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME  29 

Madame  exclaimed  angrily  that  there  was  no  time 
to  lose,  while  Clotilde  cried  out  shrilly  that  as  Zoe 
had  accused  her  of  being  a  thief,  perhaps  she  thought 
Mademoiselle  Berthe  was  one,  too.  Mademoiselle 
Berthe  alone  remained  unmoved,  smiling  sweetly  at  the 
frowning  girl,  who  retorted  quietly: 

"Perhaps  I  do.  But  not  the  kind  of  thief  you  seem 
to  think  yourself,  though  I  never  called  you  one.  Any- 
how, I  have  a  right  to  pack  my  own  things,  Madame, 
and  if  you  want  it  done  quickly  you  may  as  well  let 
me.  You  need  not  fear  my  speaking  to  any  of  the 
girls,  I  despise  them  all  too  much,  just  as  I  despise 
everyone  else  in  Sainte  Croix — everyone — " 

Mademoiselle  Berthe  smiled  sadly,  and  looked  like  a 
maligned  martyr.  But  Madame,  who  honestly  believed 
Zoe  as  bad  as  she  said  she  was,  began  to  scold  again, 
adding  that  as  it  might  save  time  she  could  do  her  own 
packing,  but  that  Mademoiselle  Berthe  would  stay  with 
her  whilst  she  did  it. 

Ten  minutes  later  Zoe  was  kneeling  beside  her  trunks 
in  the  dormitory  where  she  had  slept  for  over  three 
years,  and  Mademoiselle  Berthe  sat  on  a  chair  beside 
her.  But  although  she  asked  one  or  two  questions,  try- 
ing to  force  the  girl's  reason  for  refusing  her  help, 
Zoe  had  not  said  a  word.  She  was  determined  to  have 
nothing  more  to  do  with  this  woman  who  had  nearly 
broken  her  heart — to  begin  even  now  to  forget  her  if 
she  could. 

"I  suppose  you  are  angry  because  I  told  Madame 
Vigny's  story  to  Madame?"  Mademoiselle  asked  at  last. 
"Yet  you  should  remember,  my  little  Zoe,  it  was  my 
duty,  no  matter  how  painful  I  found  it.  I  owed  it  to 
you — for  your  sake  and  no  one  else's.  And,  to  tell  the 
truth,  I  really  believed  you  innocent  and  wanted  you 
to  clear  your  name  at  once." 
"I  don't  believe  that,"  exclaimed  Zoe,  unable  to  keep 


30  THE  LURE  OP  THE  FLAME 

silent,  as  she  shut  the  trunk  with  a  click  and  turned 
the  key. 

"You  doubt  my  word?" 

"I  cannot  help  myself,  Mademoiselle." 

"My  poor  little  Zoe!"  cooed  the  silvery  voice. 

"I  am  not  your  poor  little  Zoe,"  retorted  the  girl 
angrily. 

"You  were  glad  enough  to  be  so  once — "  began  the 
governess. 

"I  daresay — when  I  was  fool  enough  to — to  believe 
you  were  as  good  and  kind  as  you  look.  But  I  know 
now  how  stupid  I  was  to  believe  anything  of  the  kind, 
and  I  don't  want  to  have  anything  more  to  do  with 
you— that's  all." 

"That's  all,  is  it,"  said  Mademoiselle,  her  eyes  flash- 
ing. "You — a  fast  little  schoolgirl  whom  no  respectable 
person  would  tolerate — dare  to  speak  to  me  like  that? 
How  dare  you?  Is  that  your  way  of  thanking  me  for 
stooping  to  notice  you,  for  being  kind  to  you,  for  feel- 
ing sorry  for  you,  although  you're  only  suffering  the 
punishment  you  deserve?" 

But  Zoe  fled.  Any  further  evidence  of  her  folly  in 
thinking  so  much  of  this  furious  woman  was  more  than 
she  could  bear.  Besides,  she  was  afraid  of  herself,  for 
every  unjust  word  goaded  her  to  anger — there  was  no 
knowing  what  might  happen  if  she  stayed. 

But  long  after  she  had  left  the  school  and  sat  in  the 
train  opposite  Madame  Delorme,  Mademoiselle's  voice 
no  longer  silvery,  but  shrill  with  anger,  rang  in  her 
ears:  "A  fast  little  schoolgirl,  whom  no  respectable 
person  would  tolerate!" 

Even  Madame  had  said  nothing  so  horrible,  so  un- 
true. 

In  fact,  now  Madame  Delorme  had  got  rid  of  her 
contaminating  presence  in  the  school,  she  was  quite 
nice  again,  and  after  putting  her  in  charge  of  the  cap- 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME  31 

tain,  with  whom  they  discovered  she  had  traveled  sev- 
eral times,  she  handed  her  over  to  the  stewardess. 

Then,  with  a  parting  injunction  to  hug  this  sad  ex- 
perience to  heart  and  lie  down  before  the  boat  started, 
she  waddled  away,  and  with  her  went  Zoe's  last  link 
with  Sainte  Croix. 

She  told  the  stewardess  that  she  had  no  intention 
of  lying  down  yet,  if  at  all.  She  was  a  good  sailor  and 
she  liked  to  see  what  was  happening  on  deck.  So  she 
followed  Madame  gingerly,  half  fearful  of  being  seen 
by  her  and  with  a  feeling  of  elation  at  the  thought  of 
her  freedom  and  the  jolly  good  time  she  meant  to  have. 

As  she  stood  near  the  gangway  watching  the  influx 
of  passengers,  she  wondered  if  Roy  Keith  and  his  com- 
panion would  be  amongst  them,  and  was  peering  in- 
quiringly into  the  faces  of  any  men  resembling  them, 
when  she  realized  that  a  man  in  uniform  was  standing 
beside  her. 

"Mr.  Buckell!"  she  exclaimed,  starting. 

"I  was  just  wondering  how  long  it  would  take  you 
to  recognize  me, ' '  he  laughed. 

He  was  the  second  officer  of  the  Canberra,  and  a  great 
favorite  with  its  passengers.  Zoe  had  made  friends 
with  him  during  her  first  voyage  on  that  steamer,  when 
he  had  found  her  the  most  sheltered  corner  and  lis- 
tened with  interest  to  her  schoolgirl  chatter. 

"Well,"  she  went  on,  "for  one  thing,  I  was  not  think- 
ing about  seeing  you,  and  for  another,  you  have  changed 
— yes,  really." 

"Not  so  much  as  you  have,"  he  replied  quickly,  his 
eyes  intent  on  her.  "You're  taller  by  a  good  bit, 
and — "  He  hesitated,  his  gaze  running  her  over  ap- 
praisingly. 

"You're  stouter — and  you  have  a  beard!"  she  ex- 
claimed, the  color  flooding  her  face  as  she  read  the 
meaning  of  his  scrutiny. 


32  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

"Yes,  I've  grown  in  ugliness  whilst  you've  grown  in 
grace,"  he  chuckled. 

"How  silly  you  are,"  she  retorted,  her  color  deep- 
ening. "I  didn't  say  you  were  uglier." 

"But  I  say  you're  prettier — a  great  deal  prettier, 
although  you  always  were  a  pretty  little  thing,"  he 
whispered,  close  to  her  thrilled  ear.  "But  I  don't  sup- 
pose they  told  you  that  at  school." 

"No — but — '  She  hesitated,  checking  the  inclina- 
tion to  add  that  they  knew  it,  all  the  same.  "There 
were  several  pretty  girls  there,  you  know — " 

"But  not  one  like  you,  I'm  sure !"  he  retorted  quickly, 
smiling  as  she  flushed  again.  "But  I  must  go  now — 
I'll  send  a  man  with  a  deck  chair  and  rugs,  to  fix  you 
up  over  there,"  he  pointed  to  a  sheltered  corner  as  he 
spoke,  "for  you  won't  have  a  chance  of  one  pres- 
ently. Or  do  you  mean  to  go  down  instead?" 

"Oh,  no!  I  would  rather  stay  here,"  she  exclaimed. 
"And  you'll  come  back  again,  won't  you?  I  won't 
budge  until  you  do." 

For  the  moment  she  had  forgotten  to  watch  for  the 
very  improbable  sight  of  Keith  and  Hales.  For  Buck- 
ell's  evident  admiration  had  turned  her  head,  and  the 
thought  of  her  beauty  obsessed  her  entirely. 

So  she  went  over  to  the  sheltered  corner  he  had 
pointed  out,  and  allowed  the  sailor  to  tuck  her  up,  her 
eyes  seeking  the  faces  around  for  the  look  she  now 
knew  so  well.  Seeking  and  longing  for  it ;  to  glow  with 
pleasure  at  its  appearance,  to  feel  cold  and  vexed  at 
its  intolerable  absence. 

They  were  well  out  in  the  ocean  before  Buckell  came 
again.  Zoe  must  have  been  asleep,  for  she  was  sur- 
prised to  see  no  land  and  to  hear  that  they  had  lost 
the  last  glimpse  of  it  about  two  hours  ago. 

"No  wonder  I  feel  stiff,"  she  said,  smiling  up  at  him. 
"But  I  am  sorry  I  didn't  say  good-by  to  France,  for 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME  33 

I  don't  suppose  I  shall  ever  come  back  to  this  part  of 
it  again.  I  don't  want  to,  either.  You  needn't  look 
so  surprised.  I  can't  stay  at  school  all  my  life." 

' '  Then  you  're  leaving  for  good ! "  he  exclaimed  slowly. 
"I  wondered  why  you  were  going  before  the  end  of 
the  term — " 

"I'm  going  because — my  mother  sent  for  me,"  said 
Zoe  quickly. 

"And  we're  to  lose  the  pleasure  of  wondering  every 
three  months  or  so  whether  you'll  travel  on  this  boat 
or  another?" 

"I  don't  believe  you  ever  did,"  she  smiled. 

"Don't  you?  And  yet  at  the  beginning  of  the  term 
I  have  always  looked  out  for  you  at  the  dock,  and 
at  the  end  of  the  term  I  have  watched  for  you  here. 
Didn't  I  see  you  now,  long  before  you  saw  or  thought 
of  me?" 

"Ah,  but  you  were  not  looking  for  me — for  you  said 
just  now  that  it  was  not  the  end  of  the  term!" 

"Nevertheless,  I  saw  and  knew  you  at  once,  despite 
all  changes.  What  do  you  make  of  that?  Doesn't  it 
prove  that  my  thoughts  had  turned  to  you?" 

Zoe  laughed  and  looked  pleased.  An  older,  more  ex- 
perienced woman  would  have  doubted  the  truth  of  his 
assertions,  but  she  was  too  ready  to  believe  all  she  was 
told  concerning  herself  to  doubt  him  for  a  moment. 
She  was  changed  enough  for  him  to  have  passed  her 
without  recognition  at  first,  for  they  had  not  met  for 
months,  her  last  two  journeys  having  been  on  different 
boats.  Besides,  his  eyes  hardly  left  her  face,  and  there 
was  no  denying  that  he  seemed  struck. 

It  was  just  this  ready  credulity  of  hers  which  helped 
to  make  a  lot  of  misery  for  her  in  after  life. 

"What  do  you  say  to  going  round  the  boat?"  he 
asked.  "You  used  to  like  watching  the  engines,  didn't 
you?" 


34  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

"I  love  it!"  she  cried,  jumping  up,  her  face  aglow 
with  excitement. 

She  lurched  a  little  towards  him  as  she  spoke,  and 
he  took  her  arm  to  steady  her.  The  color  sprang  to 
her  face  at  his  touch.  There  was  something  almost 
caressing  in  the  grip  of  his  fingers,  and,  for  the  mo- 
ment, a  sort  of  shyness  crept  over  her. 

Buckell  smiled  as  he  saw  her  confusion  and  he  tight- 
ened his  hold  and  drew  her  closer  to  him.  No  one 
seemed  to  notice  their  attitude,  for  other  couples  passed 
them  clinging  to  each  other.  There  was  a  heavy  swell 
on,  and  one  or  two  found  it  difficult  to  stand,  let  alone 
walk,  unassisted. 

They  passed  the  captain,  who  smiled  indulgently 
into  the  girl's  face.  She  was  in  his  charge,  but  it  did 
not  occur  to  him  to  interfere  with  her  escort,  though 
he  would  certainly  have  said  something  if  Buckell  had 
been  a  passenger.  The  child  was  safe  enough  with  the 
second  officer,  who  was  always  kind  to  the  young  girls, 
no  doubt  because  they  recalled  that  rosy-cheeked  daugh- 
ter of  his,  for  Buckell  was  a  family  man  of  some  years' 
standing,  for  all  he  looked  so  young.  Yes,  Miss  Zoe 
was  safe  enough  with  old  Buckell,  and  looked  well  able 
to  take  care  of  herself  anyhow. 

He  did  not  realize  that  she  was  about  as  able  to  take 
care  of  herself  as  a  child  in  arms.  For,  whilst  she  had 
been  told  that  it  was  wrong  to  smile  at  strange  men, 
to  enter  into  conversation  with  them,  to  seek  their  so- 
ciety in  any  way,  no  one  had  attempted  to  explain  why 
no  decent  girl  did  such  things,  why  men  were  to  be 
shunned  and  feared  as  though  they  were  wild  animals 
forever  on  the  prowl  for  prey. 

She  had  been  expelled  because  they  thought  her  fast, 
feared  she  might  contaminate  the  other  girls,  but  why 
such  conduct,  as  that  attributed  to  her,  was  fast  was 
not  enlarged  upon. 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME  35 

She  was  like  a  young  soldier  sent  into  the  thick  of 
the  battle  without  knowing  how  to  use  his  arms,  nor 
the  power  they  possessed. 

And  in  that  she  was  no  different  to  thousands  of 
other  girls,  all  confined  within  the  narrow  walls  of  mock 
prudery,  like  sheep  within  a  pen.  Is  it  to  be  wondered 
at  if  one  strays  from  the  flock? 

Many  a  girl's  guardians  would  be  horrified  to  learn 
that  curiosity  as  to  what  happens  if  one  does  these 
things  no  decent  girl  would  do — curiosity — as  to  what 
the  wicked  prowlers  do  to  the  prey  they  catch, — occu- 
pies most  innocent  hearts,  to  the  exclusion  of  all  else. 

And  it  was  just  this  curiosity  which  made  Zoe  smile 
back  into  Buckell  's  eyes  and  keep  still  when  he  squeezed 
her  arm. 

As  for  Buckell,  if  he  had  given  one  thought  to  his 
rosy-cheeked  daughter  just  then,  it  is  pretty  certain  that 
Zoe  would  not  have  been  hurried  down  to  a  less  fre- 
quented part  of  the  boat  and  held  closer  to  him  as  they 
stumbled  along. 

But  Zoe  was  far  too  happy  to  fear  anything  in  this 
unusual  behavior  on  the  part  of  one  she  had  always 
regarded  as  a  big  playfellow.  Now  she  was  no  longer 
a  little  schoolgirl,  he  would  treat  her  differently;  be- 
sides, she  liked  the  feel  of  his  arm,  and  the  look  in  his 
eyes,  growing  darker  and  darker,  roused  her  curiosity 
still  more. 

Down  near  the  engine  room  there  was  no  one  to  watch 
them  as  his  hand  slipped  from  her  arm  to  her  waist. 

She  colored,  wondering  why  it  felt  so  different  than 
when  one  of  the  girls  held  her  in  like  fashion;  then 
held  her  breath  and  waited  for  him  to  do  it  again. 

"You  are  a  little  witch,"  he  whispered.  "Has  no 
one  told  you  that  before  ? ' ' 

She  hesitated,  not  quite  sure  that  she  liked  his  face 
so  close,  yet  afraid  of  vexing  him  by  jerking  hers  away. 


36  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

"Yes — I  remember  now,"  she  faltered.  "They  called 
me  that  at  school  once  or  twice — " 

"Who?" 

"Who  do  you  think?"  she  laughed,  her  eyes  look- 
ing mischievously  into  the  fire  in  his,  as  he  scanned  her 
face  searchingly. 

She  was  only  a  child  he  knew,  but — he  seemed  to 
ask — was  she  as  guileless  as  she  seemed?  Did  she  know 
the  rules  of  the  game  she  seemed  inclined  to  play?  If 
so,  well  and  good.  If  not — he  had  no  desire  to  coach 
a  beginner. 

"Well?"  said  Zoe,  reading  the  hesitation  in  his  face 
and  fearing  that  he  was  going  to  get  stiff  and  cross. 
"If  you  won't  guess,  perhaps  you  would  like  me  to  tell 
you.  Don't  you  know  that  there  are  only  women  in 
girls'  schools — and  that  the  things  they  say  are  not 
half  important  enough  for  one  to  remember  them.  It's 
only  when  men  say  the  very  same  words  that  they  seem 
to  matter." 

His  hand  stole  caressingly,  tentatively,  round  her 
slim  figure  as  they  stood  there,  looking  prosaically 
enough  at  the  huge  machinery. 

"How  do  you  know  that?"  he  asked. 

"Because  I  do — for  instance,  when  you  said  it  just 
now  it — it- 
She  stopped  nervously,  a  little  thankful  too,  as  an- 
other couple  came  up  and  paused  beside  them.  Buck- 
ell  drew  her  away. 

"I've  had  enough  of  this,  haven't  you?"  he  said, 
and  his  voice  sounded  thick  and  husky.  "Let's  go  up 
again.  I  shall  have  to  leave  you  soon,  anyhow." 

Zoe,  a  little  disappointed  at  his  change  of  tone,  and 
still  anxious  to  make  the  bast  of  her  opportunities,  ran 
on  in  front  of  him,  exclaiming: 

"Oh,  but  you  haven't  told  me  what  is  in  this  end 
of  the  steamer!" 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME  37 

"There's  nothing  to  show  here." 

"But  all  those  doors,  what  do  they  lead  to?" 

The  spot  was  quite  deserted — and  rather  dark.  But 
the  brass  handles  on  the  doors,  of  which  there  seemed 
several,  shone  brightly  enough  in  the  gloom. 

' '  If  you  want  to  know,  they  're  our  cabins ;  mine,  the 
other  officers,  and — 

"Do  you  have  separate  ones?" 

"Some  of  us." 

"Do  you?" 

"Yes." 

She  clasped  her  hands  appealingly. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Buckell,  do  let  me  see  it — I  should  love  to 
know  wrhat  a  sailor's  cabin  is  like." 

For  a  second  Buckell  hesitated  and  his  eyes,  full  of 
inquiry,  clung  to  the  girl's. 

"Don't  say  no — and  if  it  isn't  allowed,  there's  no 
one  about,"  she  pleaded.  "Not  even  those  people  near 
the  engines  will  notice;  they're  much  too  busy  with  one 
another. ' ' 

She  laughed  as  she  nodded  towards  them,  and  Buck- 
ell, glancing  back  in  the  same  direction,  saw  that  the 
man  had  his  arms  round  the  girl  and  was  whispering  in 
her  ear. 

Did  the  sight  kindle  the  fire  again  in  his  blood,  or 
was  Zoe's  eager  delight  responsible  for  that? 

At  all  events,  he  hesitated  no  longer,  but  led  the  way 
to  the  second  twinkling  knob,  which  he  turned  hurriedly. 

"Quick!"  he  murmured. 

Zoe  darted  in  before  him  like  a  flash  of  lightning, 
her  face  quivering  with  excitement,  her  eyes  dancing 
with  glee. 


CHAPTER  III 

IT  would  indeed  have  been  difficult  to  swing  the  pro- 
verbial cat  round  in  Buckell's  cabin,  which  was  like 
a  tiny  closet,  with  a  bunk  over  a  locker  chest  and  no 
room  for  a  chair. 

Zoe,  standing  in  the  narrow  space  between  the  wall 
and  the  berth,  looked  back  laughingly. 

"How  wee  it  is!  It's  smaller  than  my  cubicle  at 
school.  How  can  you  manage  to  dress  and  undress,  and 
where  do  you  keep  your  clothes?" 

She  turned  her  head  from  side  to  side  like  an  in- 
quisitive bird,  noting  the  slab  of  polished  wood  under 
the  port-hole,  which  was  evidently  meant  for  a  table; 
the  looking-glass  on  the  wall,  reflecting  her  flushed  face ; 
photographs  over  the  berth;  the  hanging  book-shelf;  a 
picture  or  two. 

Buckell,  standing  against  the  door,  his  glowering  eyes 
on  the  girl,  nodded  to  the  locker. 

"There's  no  wardrobe,"  he  said.  "That's  why  the 
berth 's  so  high  up.  Quite  a  climb ! ' ' 

"Isn't  it!  You  ought  not  to  grow  stout  with  that 
exercise  every  day.  If  you  want  to  sit  down  to  write 
a  letter,  I  suppose  you  sit  there,  too." 

She  jumped  up  lightly  as  she  spoke  and  sat  on  the 
edge  of  the  berth,  swinging  her  feet  and  smiling  down 
into  his  sullen  face  with  its  eager,  burning  eyes. 

His  sudden  change  of  manner,  his  stiff  attitude 
against  the  door,  arms  crossed  as  though  determined 
to  do  or  die,  puzzled  her.  Was  he  vexed  with  her  for 
coming  here?  And  yet,  he  had  opened  the  door  and 
made  her  hurry  in. 

38 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME  39 

"Why  do  you  look  so  cross?"  she  pouted.  "And  so 
Napoleonic  ?  I  never  can  understand  why  bad-tempered 
men  always  copy  the  little  Great  Man.  Are  you  afraid 
the  captain  will  be  vexed  with  you?  But  I'll  tell  him 
I  made  you  show  me  your  cabin;  I'll  tell  him  that  I 
came  here  of  my  own  accord — 

"So  you  did,"  interposed  Buckell,  brusquely.  "You 
insisted — remember  that. ' ' 

"Of  course  I  did.  Why  shouldn't  I?  I  wanted  to 
see  what  sort  of  place  you  had  for  your  very  own — " 

"Why?" 

He  jerked  out  the  word  suddenly,  unfolding  his  arms 
and  moving  towards  her.  "Why?"  he  repeated,  as 
she  stared  back  at  him  in  amazement. 

For  he  had  changed  again.  The  sullen  look  had 
melted  from  his  face,  which  reminded  her  suddenly  of 
Madame  Delorme  's  black  cat  Mimi  about  to  spring  upon 
a  sparrow. 

Could  he  be  mad? 

She  gazed  back  at  him,  pretty  much  as  the  terrified 
bird  looked  up  at  Mimi,  when  crushed  beneath  his  cruel 
claw. 

"Why?"  she  asked.     "Oh,  curiosity!     That's  all!" 

"All,  is  it!"  he  exclaimed,  coming  closer.  "Are  you 
sure?  Do  you  think  I'm  going  to  believe  that,  you  lit- 
tle witch?" 

Her  heart  seemed  to  stop,  a  giddiness  whirled  her 
round.  The  simile  of  the  spider  and  the  fly  followed 
that  of  Mimi  and  the  bird.  His  face  was  appallingly 
close — his  eyes  burned  and  burned — his  breath  scorched. 

"You  are  a  witch!"  he  went  on,  in  husky  tones.  "A 
distracting  little  witch  !  Nay,  more,  a  temptress !  For 
you  know  as  well  as  I  do  why  you  came  here ! ' ' 

He  snatched  her  to  him  as  he  spoke,  lifting  her  down 
into  his  arms,  holding  her  suffocatingly  close,  his  beard 
covering  her  face,  his  lips  seeking  hers. 


40  THE  LURE  OP  THE  FLAME 

She  gave  a  little  gasp  and  tried  to  push  him  from 
her. 

"Let  me  go!"  she  murmured.  "I — I  can't  breathe. 
Let  me  go!" 

"Not  yet,  you  beauty,"  he  laughed.  "You  came  will- 
ingly, remember.  You  asked  for  this,  you  know." 

He  crushed  her  to  him  again,  his  strong  arms  like 
iron  bands  around  her. 

But  instinct,  the  sole  guardian  of  so  many  unguided 
children,  awoke.  Danger  was  signaled  from  mind  to 
brain.  Every  nerve  within  her  strained  to  the  fight. 
She  became  frantic,  fighting  desperately,  wildly,  blindly. 
Her  fingers  clung  to  his  beard,  her  teeth  bit  into  his 
hand. 

With  a  muttered  oath  he  flung  her  aside,  glaring  an- 
grily at  her. 

"You  little  fool!    What  do  you  mean,  then?" 

"Let  me  out.  I  shall  scream  if  you  don't!"  she 
panted,  as  she  leaned  against  the  wall. 

"Pull  yourself  together  then — you  can't  go  like  that! 
I  never  meant  to  frighten  you.  I  thought  you  wanted 
me  to  kiss  you.  I  only  tried  to  kiss  you,  you  know — 
and  you  make  all  this  fuss,  after  leading  me  on  as  you 
did.  What  are  you  going  to  say  about  it?" 

There  was  a  look  of  fear  in  his  eyes  now  as  they 
scanned  her  quivering  face.  For  he  knew  that  this 
might  be  a  serious  matter  for  him,  if  she  blurted  it 
out  to  the  captain  or  the  stewardess  or  any  pas- 
senger who  might  be  willing  to  lend  an  ear.  A 
broken  career  for  five  minutes'  folly!  What  a  fool  he 
was. 

All  this  and  more  was  in  his  face,  and  Zoe,  little  as 
she  understood  the  real  danger  that  had  threatened  her, 
read  that.  She  was  very  angry  with  him,  so  angry  that 
she  wondered  she  could  ever  have  liked  him  with  his 
horrid  hairy  face  and  greedy  eyes — but  all  the  same 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME  41 

she  was  not  a  sneak.  If  she  had  been,  she  would  not 
have  been  expelled. 

"I  sha'n't  say  anything,"  she  faltered,  "if  you  let 
me  go  at  once.  Why  should  I?  I  didn't  know  you 
wanted  to  do  anything  so  silly  as  to  kiss  me — and  if  you 
had  said  so,  I  shouldn't  have  minded,  perhaps." 

Buckell  eyed  her  narrowly  as  she  spoke.  Was  that 
an  invitation  for  him  to  try  again? 

"We've  both  been  silly,"  he  said.  "As  for  telling 
you  what  I  wanted,  I  thought  you  knew.  You  see,  you 
haven't  got  that  face  for  nothing!" 

He  opened  the  door  as  he  spoke,  and  she  shot  out, 
half  afraid  of  being  seen,  still  doubtful  enough  of  him 
to  fear  his  following  and  drawing  her  back,  to  take 
the  kiss  she  had  not  given. 

She  stumbled  up  the  companion  stairs  and  made  for 
the  ladies'  cabin.  But  it  was  at  the  other  end  of  the 
deck,  which  looked  interminably  long.  For  a  second 
she  clung  to  the  rail,  her  limbs  trembling  beneath  her, 
her  body  aching  as  though  she  had  been  beaten  from 
head  to  foot.  She  wondered  vaguely  how  she  was  to 
manage  to  walk  all  that  distance  alone,  and  whether  any 
of  these  people,  lying  so  comfortably  in  their  deck  chairs 
or  stumbling  along  with  shrieks  of  amused  laughter, 
would  notice  her  plight  and  come  to  her  assistance. 

At  the  entrance  to  a  deck  cabin,  a  few  steps  off,  stood 
a  woman  of  about  thirty,  with  palpably  dyed  auburn 
hair  and  a  carefully  made-up  complexion  under  a  thick 
lace  veil  through  which  her  dark  eyes  shone  like  stars. 
She  was  tall  and  finely  built  and  had  the  manner  of  one 
who  thought  very  highly  of  herself,  and  expected  oth- 
ers to  do  likewise. 

Presently  she  turned  her  head  and  saw  Zoe.  The 
next  moment  she  was  beside  her. 

"Oh,  you  poor  little  thing,  how  bad  you  look!"  she 
exclaimed.  "Let  me  help  you." 


42 

Zoe  seized  the  proffered  arm  with  a  muttered  ' '  Thank 
you,"  adding  that  she  wanted  to  get  to  the  ladies' 
cabin,  but  had  felt  too  giddy  to  attempt  it. 

"Why  didn't  you  go  down  before?"  asked  the  stran- 
ger. "One  always  gets  sea-sick  when  one  gets  cold." 

"I'm  not  sea-sick,"  said  Zoe  indignantly.  "I  never 
am." 

The  lady  smiled  as  she  led  her  to  her  own  cabin. 

"What  else  can  you  be?"  she  asked.  "Anyway, 
you're  going  to  lie  down  on  my  berth,  and  I'll  look  after 
you  until  you're  well." 

"Oh!  but  no — I  couldn't.  It's  not  necessary — " 
stammered  the  girl. 

But  her  new  friend  silenced  her  by  leading  her  in, 
and  pushing  her  gently  on  to  the  made-up  bed. 

"It's  too  good  of  you — I  didn't  expect  anyone  would 
be  so  kind,"  faltered  Zoe,  her  eyes  following  the  other 
as  she  moved  across  the  dainty  little  cabin  to  open  a 
traveling  bag  and  bring  out  a  gold-topped  flask. 

"I  should  have  thought  everyone  you  met  would  want 
to  be  kind  to  you,"  she  laughed,  as  she  came  back  to 
Zoe,  and  handed  her  a  small  glass  of  brandy  and  wa- 
ter. "Drink  this,  and  you'll  soon  feel  all  right  again." 

"I'm  all  right  now,"  smiled  Zoe.  "I  only  felt  queer 
for  a  moment,  and  the  boat  lurched  so —  You  see,  I 
have  been  down  to  the  engines  and  it's  awfully  smelly 
there—" 

"I  know.  The  only  time  I  was  ill  was  after  poking 
about  like  that.  That  was  during  my  first  voyage,  a 
great  many  years  ago.  I  must  have  been  as  young  as 
you  are;  is  it  your  first,  too?" 

Zoe  laughed.  Her  little  fib  about  the  engines  hav- 
ing upset  her  made  her  feel  uncomfortable,  and  she 
was  glad  of  the  opportunity  of  covering  up  her  confu- 
sion, as  she  explained  hurriedly  that  she  had  been  to 
and  fro  twice  a  year,  for  nearly  three  years  and  a  half. 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME  43 

But  this  was  her  last  journey  on  this  route,  thank  good- 
ness.    She  was  going  home  for  good. 

"Where's  that?"  asked  the  other. 

"Quite  close  to  London,  I'm  glad  to  say." 

"Why  glad?  London's  a  poor  place  compared  with 
some ! ' ' 

"I  don't  think  so!  Though  to  be  sure  I  haven't  been 
to  many  others.  I  love  its  bustle,  its  noise,  its  streets 
and  shops  and  theaters — " 

"Do  you  go  to  many  theaters?" 

"I  mean  to  go  to  all.  You  see,  my  time  will  be  my 
own,  more  or  less,  so  I  shall  be  able  to  wait  for  the  pit 
or  the  gallery.  It  must  be  lovely  to  have  seats  you  can 
walk  into,  but  we're  too  poor  for  that." 

"Have  you  ever  been  to  the  Palace?" 

"Never,"  exclaimed  Zoe.  "Not  that  I  see  any  harm 
in  doing  so,"  she  added  quickly,  as  the  thought  rushed 
to  her  mind  that  perhaps  this  kind  Samaritan  was  that 
most  wonderful  thing  of  all — an  actress.  One  of  Zoe's 
many  ambitions  was  to  become  an  actress  herself. 

"Then,  how  would  you  like  a  couple  of  stalls  there 
one  day  next  week?" 

"How!"  exclaimed  Zoe,  her  heart  flooded  with  de- 
light. "I  should  love*  them — only — it's  impossible.  I 
mean,  it's  too  much  to  expect." 

"Not  at  all.  You  shall  have  them.  Give  me  your 
name  and  address  and  the  tickets  shall  be  sent.  For 
I  am  due  to  appear  there  on  Monday — " 

Zoe's  eyes  were  nearly  starting  out  of  her  head 
She  no  longer  felt  giddy,  no  longer  feared  Buckell,  no 
longer  remembered  her  own  beauty,  which  she  felt  was 
nothing  beside  this  wonderful  woman's. 

' '  I  am  Madame  Dardino, ' '  ended  that  personage,  with 
a  little  smile  at  Zoe's  evident  excitement. 

Zoe  had  not  the  slightest  idea  who  Madame  Dardino 
was.  But  she  had  the  sense  to  keep  that  to  herself, 


44  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

and  burst  out  into  a  torrent  of  thanks  which  amused  her 
listener  still  more. 

"Fancy  all  this  for  a  mere  performance!"  she  ex- 
claimed. 

"Ah!  but,  Madame,  if  you  knew  what  it  means  to 
me.  I  have  always  longed  to  see  an  actress  face  to 
face,  like  this,  and — " 

"I  prefer  being  called  a  singer.  Anyone  can  act 
after  a  fashion,  or  make  the  public  think  so,  but  very 
few  can  sing,  as  I  do." 

"Ah,  but  you  can  do  both,  which  is  still  more  won- 
derful!" cried  Zoe. 

That  was  a  stroke  of  genius  on  her  part  and  had 
the  effect  of  making  Madame  expand  like  a  full-blown 
rose.  She  had  reached  fame  through  her  own  accom- 
plishments, her  own  beauty,  her  own  efforts,  and  her 
audiences  adored  her.  Even  now  she  had  been  sing- 
ing in  Bordeaux,  where  the  most  wonderful  reception 
had  been  given  her.  In  her  own  eyes,  and  in  Zoe's  for 
the  moment,  there  was  no  one  to  compare  with  Dardino. 

Then,  when  she  paused  to  refresh  her  memory,  Zoe 
timidly  put  forth  her  own  desire  to  become  an  actress, 
but  Madame  Dardino  shook  her  head: 

"Don't,  child!  Until  you  have  'arrived,'  and  thou- 
sands never  do  so;  it  is  one  long  struggle  and  fight  for 
a  footing  on  a  slippery,  dangerous  path.  If  you  must 
work,  choose  something  else.  Don't  be  attracted  by  the 
glitter  of  the  stage.  For  once  you  are,  you  become  like 
a  child  with  a  gaudy  rattle.  He  wants  it  always,  al- 
ways; he  cries  for  it  if  it  is  put  aside." 

"But,  Madame,  you  have  'arrived'!" 

"Ah,  yes!  //"  The  woman 's  softer  mood  had  gone ; 
her  vanity  swamped  everything.  "But  I  am  strong!" 

Zoe,  recalling  the  fight  with  Clotilde,  the  struggle 
with  Buckell,  felt  inclined  to  echo  her  words,  though 
of  course  she  knew  that  the  singer  meant  something 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME  45 

quite  different  to  that.  But  w*hat  good  would  that  do? 
This  beautiful  woman  was  wrapped  up  in  her  own  af- 
fairs; those  of  a  mere  schoolgirl  could  not  interest  her 
at  all. 

She  slipped  to  her  feet  and  moved  to  the  door. 

"Thank  you  so  much,"  she  murmured.  ''But  I  feel 
quite  all  right  now." 

"Are  you  going?"  asked  Madame  Dardino.  "Well, 
come  and  see  me  before  we  land.  I  should  like  your 
address,  and  here  is  mine." 

She  handed  a  card  to  the  girl  as  she  spoke,  and,  open- 
ing a  tiny  book  hanging  on  her  chatelaine,  wrote  down 
the  address  Zoe  gave. 

" There,"  she  smiled,  "I  shall  look  you  up,  some  day 
— and  you  must  come  to  see  me." 

"I  should  love  to!"  exclaimed  Zoe. 

"And  you  mustn't  think  me  unkind  for  discourag- 
ing your  stage  ideas.  You  are  too  pretty  to  run  such 
risks — and — "  She  stopped  with  a  little  laugh  as  a 
man's  figure  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

He  was  tall  and  heavily  built.  His  clear-cut  face, 
while  full  of  a  certain  animalism,  was  kind  and  strong. 
A  heavy,  dark  mustache  hid  his  mouth. 

Zoe  looked  at  him  with  sudden  interest,  which  he 
returned  with  a  quizzical  smile. 

"Oh,  then,  you  were  not  talking  to  yourself,  Poppy?" 
he  exclaimed,  in  a  deep  voice. 

Madame  Dardino  smiled. 

"Certainly  not.  I  have  had  a  visitor,  as  you  see. 
She  wants  to  go  on  the  stage — and  I  have  said  don't. 
Am  I  right,  Raymond?" 

"As  right  as  rain,"  he  laughed. 

"But,"  faltered  Zoe,  "if  a  girl  has  to  earn  her  living, 
and—" 

"Still  I  say  don't — unless  everything  else  fails,"  he 
exclaimed,  turning  to  her  hurriedly,  whilst  his  eyes  ran 


46  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

over  her  figure  appraisingly.  "Or — unless  you  have 
good  friends  to  push  you  on." 

The  look  of  admiration  in  his  eyes  went  to  her  brain 
like  wine.  The  singing  in  her  heart  began  again. 

"And  if  one  hasn't?"  she  faltered. 

"Well,  then — then  I  don't  know  what  to  say,  except 
that  if  everything  else  fails,  come  to  Madame  Dardino. 
She  has  a  good  heart  and  she  will  help  you — for  all  she 
says  'Don't'  now." 

He  smiled  again.  And  Zoe  knew  that  he  meant  that 
he  would  help  as  well,  though  he  did  not  say  so.  She 
little  guessed  how  great  a  part  he  was  going  to  play 
in  her  life. 

A  gong  sounded  loudly  from  the  dining  saloon ;  people 
began  to  gather  up  their  books  and  rugs. 

They  were  all  going  to  dinner,  and  she  might  as  well 
go  too,  and  after  there  would  be  bed,  and  in  the  early 
morning  land  would  be  sighted,  the  Thames  entered,  and 
London,  dear  smoky  London,  reached  at  last. 

Seated  between  two  disagreeable  women,  she  had  am- 
ple time  for  her  thoughts,  which  naturally  turned  to 
Buckell  and  all  that  had  passed  between  them.  She 
felt  sorry  she  had  been  so  stupid.  After  all,  he  had 
only  wanted  to  kiss  her.  What  else  could  he  do?  She 
had  been  a  goose  to  make  such  a  fuss  after  all  his  kind- 
ness. What  must  he  think  of  her? 

She  looked  down  into  her  plate  as  she  caressed  the 
memory  of  his  touch,  the  feel  of  his  fingers  round  her 
waist.  Of  course  he  meant  no  harm.  He  was  such  a 
big,  strong  man  he  could  have  killed  her  easily  and  yet 
here  she  was — safe  and  sound,  and  utterly  lonely. 

If  she  could  see  him  for  one  moment,  before  turn- 
ing in,  she  would  tell  him  how  sorry  she  was.  So  up 
she  went  on  deck — to  pause  with  a  choking  sensation  of 
shyness  as  she  came  upon  him,  standing  with  his  back 
to  her,  near  the  bridge. 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME  47 

The  trembling  began  again  in  her  limbs  and  her  cour- 
age failed  her  somewhat.  In  fact,  it  is  doubtful  if  she 
would  have  spoken  at  all  if  he  had  not  turned  suddenly 
and  seen  her. 

He  frowned  a  little  and  moved  away.  Zoe  followed 
meekly. 

"Mr.  Buckell?"  she  murmured. 

"What  is  it?" 

"Are  you  very  angry  with  me  for  being  so  silly?" 

He  turned  and  looked  at  her.  She  was  very  pale  and 
her  eyes  were  full  of  pleading. 

"No,"  he  replied  abruptly,  "of  course  not.  I  thought 
we  had  decided  to  say  nothing  more  about  the  mat- 
ter." 

Assuredly  his  manner  had  changed  towards  her.  He 
was  never  going  to  be  friendly  again.  She  felt  very 
sorry — she  would  have  given  anything  to  hear  him  laugh 
and  tease  her — anything  to  feel  his  hand  round  her 
again. 

A  whistle  blew  then,  and  he  started  forward: 

"Good  night,  Miss  Zoe;  sleep  well,  and  forget. 
That's  what  I  mean  to  do — for  I  was  the  worst,  you 
know — being  the  oldest." 

Later,  Zoe  understood,  not  only  what  she  had  escaped 
but  why  he  really  avoided  her  then;  understood  that, 
as  men  go,  he  was  no  worse  and  a  great  deal  better 
than  most — and  that  she,  in  her  ignorance  and  folly,  had 
played  with  him  as  skillfully  as  many  an  older  woman; 
had  tempted  him  perhaps  more.  Some  of  her  first 
blushes  of  shame  were  for  her  share  in  that  episode. 

She  was  awakened  early  by  the  bustle  of  feet  over- 
head. Land  had  been  sighted,  the  mouth  of  the  Thames 
yawned  before  them,  a  river  pilot  had  scrambled  on  deck. 
Soon,  very  soon  now,  she  would  have  left  the  steamer 
and  met  her  mother.  For  the  first  time  since  Madame 
Delorme  had  said  good-by  she  began  to  feel  sorry  for 


48  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

the  manner  of  her  return,  to  wonder  anxiously  what  her 
mother  would  say. 

But  if  Mrs.  Dereham  had  intended  to  scold  there 
was  no  sign  of  that  in  the  smiling  face  she  turned  to 
Zoe,  as  the  passengers  crowded  off  the  steamer  on 
arrival. 


CHAPTER  IV 

•  • 

ZOE  had  not  been  home  many  hours  when  she  re- 
alized that  the  ordering  of  her  life  would  not  be 
in  her  own  hands  after  all,  and  that,  whilst  her  mother 
seemed  to  believe  in  her,  she  evidently  still  regarded 
her  as  not  to  be  trusted  to  do  any  of  the  delightful 
things  she  had  planned,  such  as  running  up  and  down 
to  London  by  herself,  joining  the  theater  queues,  look- 
ing at  the  shops. 

Nor  had  Mrs.  Dereham  seemed  as  impressed  as  she 
ought  to  have  been,  when  Dardino,  passing  quickly  with 
Raymond  Raynor,  nodded  a  friendly  good-by  to  the  de- 
lighted girl. 

"Isn't  she  lovely,  Mother!"  she  exclaimed,  turning 
to  her  mother,  whose  eyes  were  following  the  handsome 
couple  to  their  cab.  "She's  Madame  Dardino — a  great 
singer!  And  she's  going  to  send  us  tickets  for  the 
Palace,  where  she's  going  to  appear.  Isn't  it  sweet  of 
her?" 

"Yes — but — "  Mrs.  Dereham  faltered,  stopped,  and 
turned  the  conversation  deftly  to  the  subject  of  Zoe's 
luggage. 

For  how  could  she  ruffle  the  child's  innocence  by  hint- 
ing that  there  were  reasons  why  no  nice  girl  could  know 
Dardino  ?  The  feeling  that  no  decent  woman  could  talk 
about  such  matters  to  her  own  offspring  laid  an  em- 
bargo on  her  tongue. 

Zoe,  however,  scanned  the  still  beautiful  face  with  its 
weary  eyes,  inquiringly.  Was  her  mother  jealous  of 
Dardino 's  looks?  Of  her  voice?  How  silly!  If  she 

49 


50  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

were  not  so  shocked  about  actresses  and  such  like,  she 
might  have  been  just  as  great  as  Dardino,  instead  of 
teaching  a  lot  of  stupid  people  without  a  note  of  music 
in  them.  And  if  she  took  a  little  more  pride  in  her 
appearance,  she  would  look  just  as  nice,  nay,  better 
than  Madame  Dardino  herself.  It  was  horrid  for  a  girl 
to  have  to  go  about  with  a  mother  who  looked  like  a 
cook! 

For  Zoe,  like  many  others,  judged  by  externals,  and 
just  because,  to  her  eyes,  her  mother  was  dowdy,  she 
failed  to  see  in  her  the  look  of  race  and  breeding  which 
Madame  Dardino  lacked. 

Had  she  realized  that  the  faded  beauty  was  due  to 
sorrow  and  hard  work,  the  shabbiness  to  low  funds, 
there  is  no  doubt  that  her  warm  young  heart  would  have 
been  filled  with  self-reproach  and  she  would  have  pouted 
less  over  the  news  that  she,  herself,  was  to  start  work 
at  once. 

For  as  they  entered  the  little  sitting-room  wherein 
breathed  order,  beauty  and  peace,  although  there  were 
no  priceless  bibelots,  nor  costly  furniture  to  gratify  the 
eye,  they  found  a  note  awaiting  them. 

Mrs.  Dereham  opened  it  quickly,  then  turned  to  Zoe, 


"Do  you  remember  Mrs.  Broome-Taylor ? " 

"Of  course.     She  has  a  horrid  little  kid—" 

"Why  horrid?" 

"Oh,  well,  she  is — her  teeth  stick  out  like  her  moth- 
er's, and  she's  so  dreadfully  spoilt— 

"I  daresay  people  accuse  me  of  spoiling  you,  dear, 
and  yet,  here  am  I  starting  at  once  to  make  you  work. 
Mrs.  Broome-Taylor  wants  someone  to  be  with  Fanny 
all  day,  to  teach  and  play  with  her." 

"And  you  suggested  me!  Oh,  Mother,  how  could 
you?" 

For  the  thought  of  teaching  no  longer  appealed  to 


THE  LUEE  OF  THE  'FLAME  51 

Zoe.  It  is  doubtful  whether  she  had  ever  considered 
it  seriously.  It  had  merely  seemed  better  than  school, 
spelling  independence  and  freedom.  Though  it  is  pos- 
sible that  she  would  have  taken  to  it  more  kindly  if 
her  meeting  with  Madame  Dardino  had  not  roused  her 
latent  craving  for  the  stage. 

For,  in  spite  of  the  singer's  lack  of  encouragement, 
she  felt  more  anxious  than  she  had  ever  been  to  adopt 
that  life.  You  had  only  to  look  at  her  mother  and  Dar- 
dino;  to  observe  their  clothes;  the  gay,  happy-go-lucky 
manner  of  the  one  compared  with  the  sad,  tired  look 
of  the  other,  to  see  what  you  ought  to  do. 

When  you  were  not  a  fright,  when  you  could  attract 
the  eyes  of  anyone  you  cared  to  attract,  surely  you  need 
not  worry  about  your  footing  being  unsteady  on  what 
Madame  Dardino  was  pleased  to  call  a  dangerous,  slip- 
pery path. 

But  it  was  no  use  saying  anything;  telling  that  you 
were  the  best  actress  in  the  school;  that  your  voice  was 
the  sweetest.  It  would  only  upset  this  anxious  little 
mother  who  would  never  agree  that  actresses  were  as 
respectable  as  governesses  and  had  not  to  work  so 
hard. 

All  this  rushed  through  Zoe's  rebellious  heart,  rous- 
ing her  indignation  against  Mrs.  Broome-Taylor  and 
her  kind.  That  they  should  be  able  to  command  her 
services  like  this! 

A  month  ago  she  would  have  laughed  at  the  idea, 
tossed  her  head,  exclaiming  that  even  if  she  had  to  do 
something  there  was  no  hurry,  and  she  could  at  all 
events  pick  and  choose  her  pupils  and  decide  what  time 
she  gave  them. 

She  felt  so  angry  that  she  hardly  realized  that  her 
mother  had  been  speaking  kindly,  explaining  that  it 
was  impossible  to  refuse  such  a  good  offer,  and  that 
after  all  it  would  be  easy  work. 


62  THE  LURE  OP  THE  FLAME 

1  'But  I  was  not  to  start  until  after  the  holidays," 
she  faltered.  "And  they  don't  begin  for  weeks!  And 
I  hate  the  Broome-Taylors,  with  their  horrid  teeth 
which  make  them  look  like  rabbits — and  things  being  ar- 
ranged so  suddenly,  when  I  wanted  a  week  or  two  to 
myself.  And  people  will  guess  why  I  am  at  home, 
whereas  if  I  didn't  start  working  so  soon  they  might 
believe  I  had  been  ill.  I'm  sure  you  don't  want  them 
to  know  I  was  expelled — and — " 

' '  Dear  child,  there  is  no  reason  why  they  should ! 
It  is  simply  that  I  can't  afford  to  refuse  any  work  for 
you,  now  you  are  at  home." 

"One  would  think  we  were  paupers!"  retorted  Zoe 
sullenly. 

Something  in  the  eyes  that  met  hers  made  her  feel 
ashamed. 

"And  so  we  are,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Dereham  quietly. 
"Hitherto  I  have  kept  all  cares  and  worries  from  you, 
but — we  are  so  poor  that  if  I  gave  up  work  for  a  week 
or  two,  we  should  be  absolutely  penniless." 

"Oh,  Mother,  it  can't  be  true!"  exclaimed  the  girl, 
with  a  sudden  feeling  of  despair,  as  her  heart — impul- 
sive, passionate — stirred  beneath  her  anger  and  her 
selfishness.  Paupers ! 

"It  can't  be  true —  '  she  repeated  dully.  "My  fa- 
ther left  us  something  when  he  died,  didn't  he?  Not 
much  I  know,  or  else  you  wouldn't  have  to  teach — but 
— something. ' ' 

"No — nothing,"  said  Mrs.  Dereham  evasively. 

"Nothing!"  cried  Zoe,  horrified. 

"We  depend  entirely  on  what  I  earn,"  went  on  her 
mother,  gently,  grieved  at  having  to  undeceive  her. 
"We  have  no  prospects,  no  rich  men's  shoes  to  wait 
for — nothing  but  our  own  efforts  to  keep  ourselves  re- 
spectably. I  had  not  meant  to  tell  you  yet,  but — 

"You  ought  to  have  told  me!"  sobbed  Zoe.    "It  was 


THE  LURE  OP  THE  FLAME  53 

cruel  not  to.  I  so  often  thought  you  stingy!  And  all 
the  time  you  were  slaving  for  me — going  without  things 
yourself. ' ' 

"Oh,  no,  it  wasn't  so  bad  as  that,  Zoe!  And  there's 
a  certain  pleasure  in  going  without  things  for  another's 
sake.  We  learn  then  how  little  we  really  want,  which 
is  good.  And  people,  here,  are  so  kind." 

"But — my  schooling — my  clothes — my — "  Zoe 
stopped,  reddening  with  shame  as  her  bright  eyes  ran 
over  her  mother's  shabby  gown.  "I  never  go  without 
a  thing!"  she  ended  brokenly. 

"Nor  do  I,"  smiled  Mrs.  Dereham. 

"You  sha'n't,  now — ever!"  cried  Zoe,  throwing  her 
arms  round  her  neck.  "I  will,  if  anyone  must.  And 
I'll  work  as  soon  and  as  much  as  you  like!  I'm 
strong ! ' ' 

She  thought  of  Madame  Dardino  as  she  said  that; 
tried  to  draw  herself  up  in  the  same  way,  to  impress 
as  she  had  been  impressed. 

Yes.  She  was  strong.  And  beautiful!  Ah!  how 
thankful  she  was  for  that.  For  of  course,  with  a  face 
like  hers,  she  would  not  have  to  go  on  teaching  Fanny 
Broome-Taylor  for  years  and  years.  Somebody  would 
seek  her  out.  Roy  Keith  perhaps.  Or  somebody  equally 
charming  and  delightful,  though  could  any  other  man 
be  that? 

This  softer  mood  of  hers  lasted  for  several  days.  She 
overflowed  with  generosity  towards  her  mother  and  tried 
to  make  the  best  of  Fanny  with  whom  she  started  the 
next  day. 

She  found  her  a  detestable  child,  though  a  little  too 
shy  at  first  to  show  herself  in  her  true  colors. 

And  Mrs.  Broome-Taylor  was  very  kind,  although  she 
was  so  anxious  about  her  offspring  that  either  she,  or 
her  mother,  who  lived  with  them,  assisted  at  all  the 
lessons.  Zoe  felt  herself  therefore  under  constant  es- 


54  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

pionage  and  never  had  Fanny  to  herself  except  during 
their  daily  walk  or  the  hour's  recreation  before  tea. 

Couldn't  they  trust  her?  "Were  they  afraid  she 
would  ill-treat  the  little  wretch,  she  asked  her  mother 
at  last. 

Mrs.  Dereham  smiled  sympathetically  as  she  said  that 
they  were  no  doubt  afraid  Fanny  might  be  naughty  if 
left  alone  with  one  who  was  little  more  than  a  child 
herself.  For  of  course  they  did  not  realize  that  chil- 
dren are  always  more  troublesome  when  their  own  peo- 
ple are  about.  Even  she  had  to  submit  to  the  same 
treatment  sometimes. 

"And  you  put  up  with  it?"  asked  Zoe. 

"Of  course.  What  else  can  I  do?  It  is  such  a  lit- 
tle thing,  after  all,  and  beggars  can't  be  choosers — my 
child!" 

Meanwhile  Madame  Dardino  kept  her  promise  and 
sent  the  tickets  for  a  Saturday  matinee,  and  Mrs.  Dere- 
ham consented  to  take  her,  though  secretly  Zoe  wished 
she  would  stay  at  home.  For,  although  she  loved  her 
dearly,  she  still  felt  ashamed  of  her  shabbiness  and 
thought  her  too  particular  about  her  behavior  out-of- 
doors. 

Why  mustn't  you  look  about  you  freely?  Why  must 
you  avoid  a  strange  man's  eyes  and  look  as  though  you 
were  the  only  person  in  the  world?  Especially  when 
there  was  no  reason  for  doing  so.  Rude!  Why  is  it 
rude  to  glance  casually  at  a  man,  who  is  perhaps  star- 
ing you  out  of  countenance,  when  it  isn't  rude  to  look 
at  a  woman? 

Really  Mother  was  as  silly  as  old  Delorme!  Men 
were  nicer  to  look  at  than  women ;  pleasanter,  more  in- 
clined to  be  friendly  and  make  room  for  you  in  an  over- 
crowded vehicle.  Women  dissected  you  from  head  to 
foot  with  gimlet  eyes  and  scornful  lip.  You  knew  that 
they  knew  your  gloves  were  shabby,  your  dress  cheap, 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME  55 

the  pretty  bow  upon  your  hat  home-made.  And  you 
hated  women  whom  you  had  found  jealous  and  mean. 
You  trusted  none  but  your  mother,  of  course,  and 
Madame  Dardino. 

But  if  these  thoughts  occupied  Zoe's  mind  on  her 
way  to  the  theater  she  soon  forgot  them  as  she  gave 
herself  up  to  the  enjoyment  of  their  luxurious  seats. 
She  even  felt  a  little  pity  for  the  girls  she  had  seen 
standing  outside,  or  for  those  who  had  to  go  away  with- 
out a  seat. 

She  sat  enraptured  throughout  Dardino 's  turn.  She 
thought  her  more  beautiful  than  ever.  She  loved  her 
voice,  her  smile,  her  glowing  eyes.  True,  she  felt  a 
strange  thrill  of — was  it  disillusion? — when  in  the 
middle  of  the  clever  little  operette  Dardino  flung  her 
cloak  aside  and  revealed  herself  in  tights. 

But  when  Mrs.  Dereham  commented  on  the  pity  of 
such  a  performance  when  Dardino 's  voice  was  great 
enough  to  please  any  audience  without  lowering  herself 
to  that  degree,  Zoe  defended  her  friend  loyally. 

Why  shouldn't  she  show  her  lovely  figure?  Surely 
there  was  nothing  lowering  in  that  ? 

She  was  speaking  hurriedly,  her  face  flushed,  when 
someone  touched  her  lightly  on  the  shoulder.  It  was 
Eaymond  Raynor. 

"Madame  Dardino  would  like  to  see  you,  now — if  you 
don't  mind  missing  a  turn  or  two,"  he  smiled. 

"Mind!  Of  course  not.  This  is  Mr.  Raymond, 
Mother.  Please  may  I  go  with  him?" 

Mrs.  Dereham  bowed  to  the  smiling  man  and  looked 
hesitatingly  at  Zoe. 

"We  won't  keep  her  long,"  said  Raynor,  persua- 
sively. "I'll  bring  her  back  myself." 

Mrs.  Dereham  could  hardly  refuse  without  being 
offensive.  So  she  assented  with  a  warning  glance  at  Zoe, 
and  watched  her  thread  her  way  through  the  crowd 


56  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

assembling  in  the  gangway  for  a  famous  dancer's  turn, 
until  she  disappeared  out  of  sight. 

Then  she  wished  she  had  had  the  courage  to  refuse. 
For  there  were  strange  rumors  about  the  singer.  Her 
husband,  Dardino,  was  a  well  known  tenor  who  had  run 
away  to  America  with  a  French  actress.  Madame 
Dardino,  herself,  could  boast  of  similar  escapades — no 
doubt  Raymond  Raynor  was  her  latest  conquest.  He 
was  certainly  handsome  and  appeared  rich.  There  was 
a  look  in  his  face  she  did  not  like.  His  eyes  had  said 
boldly  enough  what  he  thought  of  Zoe.  Oh,  why  had 
she  let  her  go ! 

Meanwhile  Zoe  followed  Raynor  behind  the  stage. 
Her  eyes  drank  in  the  scene  with  avidity.  She  looked 
inquiringly  at  the  people  standing  about.  What  was 
paltry  and  sordid — the  dreary  corridors — the  tawdry 
scenery — the  miserable  faces  above  the  brave  attire — 
escaped  her  entirely.  For  the  glamour  of  the  stage  as 
seen  from  the  front  had  followed  her  here,  behind.  And 
she  was  going  to  see  Dardino ! 

The  singer  was  lying  on  a  low  couch,  her  arms  flung 
above  her  head,  her  eyes  closed. 

But  as  Zoe  entered  she  sprang  up  and  embraced  her 
effusively. 

"You  dear  child!"  she  exclaimed.  "So  you  have 
heard  me  at  last!  Tell  me — what  do  you  think?" 

Seen  close  to  Dardino  in  tights  was  not  half  so  nice 
as  Dardino  on  the  steamer.  Somehow  Zoe  felt  hot  and 
uncomfortable  as  she  kept  her  eyes  to  the  smiling  face. 
She  was  glad  her  mother  had  stayed  away,  for  she 
would  have  been  more  shocked  than  ever. 

"I  thought  you  were — ripping!"  she  stammered.  "I 
had  no  idea  you  were  so  wonderful!" 

Raynor,  who  had  dropped  into  a  chair,  laughed. 
Dardino  looked  as  pleased  as  Punch. 

"Listen  to  this,  Bugle,"  she  exclaimed,  turning  to 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME  57 

a  woman  who  was  preparing  tea  at  a  small  tea  table. 
"This  young  lady  has  never  seen  me  before.  Nor  even 
heard  of  me,  until  last  week!" 

The  woman  turned.  Beyond  the  fact  that  she  was 
clean  and  respectable,  there  was  nothing  about  her  to 
arrest  attention. 

"My!"  she  ejaculated,  in  a  queer  husky  voice.  "Do 
you  really  mean  it,  Miss?  Not  heard  of  La  Dardino! 
The  one  and  only!  The  greatest  artiste  in — " 

"Stow  that,  Bugle,"  snapped  Dardino,  frowning 
angrily. 

"Well,  it's  true— isn't  it?" 

"That's  no  reason  for  repeating  it.  I  tell  you,  it's 
quite  refreshing  to  find  someone  who  had  never  heard 
of  me — for  once." 

"I'm  sorry,"  stammered  Zoe.  "But  you  see  I  was 
at  school  and  we  never  heard  of  anyone  but  stodgy  old 
preachers.  And  we  never  went  anywhere  except  to  lec- 
tures and  prayer-meetings." 

"No  wonder  you're  stage-struck,"  said  Dardino, 
"though  I  daresay  you've  changed  your  mind  since 
we  met." 

"No,  I  haven't!"  exclaimed  Zoe.  "I  long  for  it 
more  than  ever.  So  would  you  if  you  had  to  teach  a 
stupid  little  girl  who  looks  like  a  rabbit  and  fights  like 
a  wildcat  when  she  can't  get  her  own  way — and  who 
has  a  mother  who  spies  on  you  and  an  old  grandmother 
who—" 

"Even  then,"  interrupted  Dardino,  with  a  yawn,  "I 
should  prefer  it  to  the  stage — if  I  were  you!" 

"Oh!  but  you—" 

"As  I  told  you  before,  you  mustn't  judge  of  the  life 
by  what  you  know  about  me.  I'm  a  success.  But  look 
at  Bugle,  there — she's  a  failure!" 

"Bugle!"  ejaculated  Zoe  incredulously. 

"Yes,  Bugle.     She  was  a  great  favorite  at  the  Lane; 


58  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

weren't  you,  Bugle?  She  had  heaps  of  money,  heaps 
of  success — and  yet-  look  at  her  now !  No  looks,  no  fig- 
ure, nothing!  She  might  just  as  well  be  dead  for  all 
the  pleasure  she  gets  out  of  life." 

Zoe  was  shocked  at  Dardino's  seeming  brutality  and 
glanced  at  Bugle  to  see  how  she  was  taking  it.  But, 
beyond  a  slight  flush  spreading  from  neck  to  brow, 
Bugle  showed  no  sign  of  having  heard  anything  un- 
usual. 

"It's  true,"  she  exclaimed;  "I  was  even  greater 
than  Madame  Dardino  then!  I  daresay  you  don't  be- 
lieve me — but,  although  I  wasn't  a  beauty,  I  had  other 
things.  But  beauty  isn't  enough,  nor  brains,  nor  any- 
thing unless — " 

She  paused,  her  eyes  scanning  Zoe's  eager  face. 

"Well,"  she  resumed,  "if  I  hadn't  been  what  some 
would  call  a  fool,  I  shouldn't  have  come  down  to  this. 
Precious  few  can  keep  straight  on  the  stage  and  remain 
successful.  I  couldn't  for  one.  It  was  either  success 
and  the  broad  way — or  failure  and  the  narrow  one.  I 
chose  that." 

"Never  mind,  they  say  it  leads  to  heaven,"  laughed 
Dardino,  "even  if  you  starve  meanwhile." 

"Mind!  I  don't  mind!  I'm  an  honest  woman  when 
all's  said  and  done,  and  that's  more  than  some  can  say," 
retorted  Bugle  meaningly. 

"It's  time  Miss  Zoe  came  back  to  her  lonely  parent," 
interposed  Raynor,  smiling  into  the  girl's  puzzled  face. 

For,  in  spite  of  Dardino's  smiling  indifference,  she 
was  quick  enough  to  see  that  there  was  more  between 
her  and  Bugle  than  met  the  eye. 

What  was  it?  Had  Madame  Dardino  told  Bugle  to 
run  down  the  stage?  Or  did  Bugle  really  mean  what 
she  said?  Anyhow,  she  did  not  believe  that  the  plain 
little  woman  could  ever  have  been  as  great  as  La 
Dardino. 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME  59 

SHe  turned  to  the  actress  with  a  smile. 

"Thank  you  so  much  for  letting  me  come,"  she  said. 
"And  for  the  tickets.  It  has  been  jolly!  We  have 
both  enjoyed  it." 

"That's  right.  You  must  come  again.  But  mind 
you  put  all  that  silly  nonsense  about  acting  out  of  that 
pretty  little  head,"  replied  Dardino,  kissing  her. 
"You're  much  better  off  as  you  are.  Just  you  think 
of  poor  old  Bugle,  and  take  warning  in  tune." 


CHAPTER  V 

A  LTHOUGH  Zoe  would  rather  have  died  than  tell 
JTTL  her  mother,  her  infatuation  for  Dardino  had 
lessened  considerably  during  her  brief  visit  to  the  dress- 
ing-room. Something  in  the  singer's  manner,  in  the 
way  she  spoke  of  Bugle,  who  had  called  herself  an  hon- 
est woman — with  an  air! — as  though  it  was  the  rarest 
thing  in  the  world — something  at  any  rate  had  hap- 
pened to  open  Hhe  girl's  eyes. 

She  felt  horribly  disappointed,  as  impulsive  people 
are  apt  to  do  on  discovering  the  clay  clinging  to  their 
idol's  feet,  though  as  she  turned  the  conversation  over 
in  her  mind,  vanity  whispered  that  Dardino  was  jealous 
of  her  looks,  her  youth.  She  recalled  many  stories  she 
had  read  of  beautiful  damsels  thwarted  in  their  strug- 
gle for  fame  and  success  by  handsome  sirens  of  uncer- 
tain age.  Yes — that  was  why  Dardino  had  spoken  so 
strangely,  why  Bugle  had  chimed  in.  What  a  silly  girl 
she  was  not  to  have  guessed  at  once  that  Dardino 
wanted  all  the  limelight  both  on  and  off  the  stage.  Xo 
one  else  must  shine  where  she  was.  No  one  else  must 
be  noticed  at  all.  There  was  no  doubt  of  that,  if  you 
recalled  Raynor's  manner  in  the  singer's  presence — 
and  away  from  it! 

Not  that  he  had  done  anything  approaching  Buck- 
ell's  behavior,  though  he  reminded  her  of  it  by  taking 
her  arm  as  he  led  her  along  the  corridor. 

The  color  flew  to  her  face  and  she  wondered  breath- 
lessly if  he  would  try  to  kiss  her — and  if  she  would 
feel  as  she  had  felt  when  Buckell  tried  to  do  the  same. 
But  he  looked  cleaner  than  Buckell  with  his  pink  and 

60 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME  61 

white  skin,  his  hairless  face.  His  lips  were  very  red, 
his  teeth  white  and  strong,  the  very  smell  of  him 
was  nice. 

Her  heart  beat  so  that  she  could  hardly  hear  what 
he  was  saying.  Her  every  nerve  was  on  the  alert.  She 
did  not  know  whether  to  feel  afraid  or  pleased. 

But  as  they  reached  the  door  leading  into  the  theater 
he  dropped  her  arm  and  smiled  into  her  face,  exclaim- 
ing: 

"Here  you  are!  See,  there's  your  mother  looking 
this  way.  Good-by,  until  we  meet  again." 

"I  don't  know  when  that  will  be,"  she  stammered, 
feeling  as  though  he  had  repulsed  her,  and  not  liking 
to  meet  his  eyes. 

"Oh,  very  soon,  of  course.  Ill  see  that  Madame  re- 
members you!  Besides,  she  told  you  to  come  again." 

"Yes,  bu1^" 

"And  if  you  don't  she'll  look  you  up,  never  fear," 
he  added  kindly. 

He  stood  still  until  she  had  reached  her  seat,  and 
then,  flashing  a  brilliant  smile  at  her,  turned  back. 

She  pictured  him  hurrying  along  the  corridor — to 
Dardino  and  the  dressing-room.  And,  feeling  suddenly 
annoyed,  answered  her  mother  sullenly.  Of  course 
Madame  Dardino  was  pleased  to  see  her.  She  looked 
lovely  in  her  stage  costume.  It  was  horrid  of  people 
to  be  shocked  by  it.  And  Mr.  Raynor  had  been  there 
all  the  time.  Why  not?  He  was  Madame 's  friend. 
Surely  there  was  no  harm  in  preferring  him  to  a 
woman  who  might  be  jealous  and  quarrelsome.  Yes, 
there  was  a  dresser — but  of  course  you  could  not  make 
a  friend  of  a  person  of  that  kind.  She  looked  like  a 
charwoman,  was  one  perhaps.  A  great  actress  needed 
a  protector — someone  to  keep  people  from  bothering 
her. 

Here  was  one  of  the  many  opportunities  of  opening 


62  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

Zoe's  eyes  to  the  ways  of  the  wicked  world  around. 
But  Mrs.  Dereham  shirked  it  as  she  shirked  them  all. 
Possibly  Zoe  was  not  in  a  receptive  mood,  but  the  first 
step  towards  dispelling  her  ignorance  might  easily  have 
been  taken — in  which  case  this  story  might  never  have 
been  written. 

But  when  you  consider  that  your  daughter's  inno- 
cence is  her  most  charming  asset,  it  is  hardly  likely  you 
are  going  to  risk  destroying  it,  no  matter  what  your 
own  experiences  have  been.  They  merely  serve  to  help 
you  to  avert  all  danger  from  her  path;  to  know,  and 
watch  for  ominous  signs.  And  as  for  these  things  that 
happen  to  other  girls  less  fortunate  in  their  upbringing 
— in  an  ever-vigilant  guardian — they  cannot  possibly 
happen  to  your  one  ewe  lamb.  So  why  shock  her 
unnecessarily?  Why  fill  her  mind  with  polluting 
thoughts  ? 

Therefore,  Mrs.  Dereham  tried  to  steer  the  conversa- 
tion into  safer  channels,  but  Zoe,  stung  by  her  evident 
disapproval,  exclaimed : 

"And  what  does  it  matter  to  anyone  if  Madame  Dar- 
dino  is  always  with  Mr.  Raynor.  I  shall  have  a  man 
for  my  friend  when  I'm  grown  up.  For  you  can  trust 
men  when  you — " 

"Not  always.  Human  nature  is  the  same  in  both 
sexes,  my  child." 

"I  don't  care.  Men  are  much  nicer  than  women, 
and  it's  no  good  saying  they're  not.  I  got  to  know 
women  at  school,  and  I  shall  never  change  my  mind 
about  them.  Not  even  if  I  stick  to  teaching  all  my 
life  and  have  no  one  else  to  mix  with — for  governesses 
always  seem  to  hang  together;  that's  why  they're  so 
dull — and  so  proper — and  so  dowdy.  Oh!  I  hate  the 
thought  of  turning  into  that  kind  of  creature.  But  I 
won't,  if  I  can  help  it." 

"I  sincerely  hope  you  won't!" 


THE  LUBE  OF  THE  FLAME  63 

"I  'don't  see  how  I'm  to  help  it  if  I  have  to  lead 
such  a  deadly  life.  One  would  think  you  love  it,  the 
way  you  speak.  And  yet  you  grind  and  slave,  and 
have  only  stodgy  women  for  friends  and — " 

"There  are  worse  things  than  that!"  smiled  Mrs. 
Dereham. 

"I  daresay.  But  there  are  better  ones,  too.  Such  as 
acting  for  one.  Why  can't  I  be  an  actress?" 

There!  It  was  out  at  last,  though  she  had  meant 
to  keep  it  back — had  purposely  avoided  telling  about 
Bugle's  past,  which  would  certainly  make  her  mother 
less  willing  than  ever  to  listen  to  her  suggestion — had 
meant  to  say  nothing  at  all  either  for  or  against  the 
stage  until  she  had  given  Fanny  Broome-Taylor  a  fair 
trial. 

Her  heart  smote  her  as  she  met  her  mother's  pained 
eyes.  It  so  often  did  when  she  said  something  not  quite 
proper  in  a  governess.  But  why  should  it?  Why 
should  her  mother  have  the  power  to  make  her  feel 
ashamed  when  she  had  said  nothing  really  terrible? 

"Why  can't  I?"  she  repeated,  anger  against  her  own 
impotence  surging  up  in  her.  "It  would  be  quite  easy, 
now  I  know  someone  who  could  help  me.  I  can  sing 
and  dance.  And  I'm  not  a  fright,  like  some  of  the 
girls  we've  seen  to-day — am  I?" 

They  were  sitting  at  a  marble-topped  table  in  a  pop- 
ular tea-shop.  Every  seat  was  occupied.  Close  by  a  cou- 
ple of  dissipated  youths  were  discussing  a  programme, 
their  eyes  stealing  from  it  to  Zoe.  Even  in  her  anger 
she  was  aware  of  their  unfeigned  admiration  and  en- 
couraged by  it.  No!  She  was  not  a  fright! 

Their  whispers — "Yes,  she's  awfully  like  her,  I 
thought  it  was" — "only  prettier,  fresher,  altogether" — 
"I  wonder  who  she  is" — reached  her  ears  and  made  her 
sit  up  with  a  feeling  of  exultation.  They  were  compar- 
ing her  with  a  musical  comedy  star! 


64  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

She  glanced  eagerly  at  her  mother.  If  she  heard 
she  would  see  how  easy  it  would  be  to  win  fame  as  an 
actress.  But  the  look  of  disapproval  was  still  there 
and  the  low  reply,  that  Zoe  was  certainly  not  a  fright, 
conveyed  no  assent. 

"Yet  you  prefer  to  tie  me  to  a  life  I  hate,"  mut- 
tered the  girl,  crumbling  her  cake  to  pieces  and  pouting 
childishly. 

"I  prefer  to  keep  you  with  me,  baby.  Some  day 
you  will  thank  me  for  it.  Thank  me  for  not  mak- 
ing an  actress  of  you.  All  is  not  gold  that  glitters, 
darling ! ' ' 

"I  hate  those  stupid  proverbs.  And  if  you  think  I'm 
going  to  turn  into  a  walking  copybook  like  yourself, 
you're  mistaken.  I'll  run  away,  first." 

Mrs.  Dereham  colored  painfully.  She  was  still 
young  enough  to  resent  the  insult,  and  to  enter  into 
Zoe's  rebellious  feelings.  But  she  lacked  the  power  of 
showing  that.  Years  of  loneliness  and  repression  had 
built  up  a  high  wall  of  reserve  between  her  and  the 
world.  And,  although  she  longed  to  pull  it  down,  she 
had  no  idea  where  to  start. 

"Do  I  really  sound  as  bad  as  that!"  she  smiled. 
"Then  it's  a  good  thing  you  came  home  to  keep  me 
in  order.  You  may  not  believe  me,  but  I,  too,  have 
an  horror  of  becoming  '  governessy, '  as  you  call  it.  So 
we  must  watch  each  other  closely,  for  any  signs  of  the 
disease.  Now  how  shall  we  go  back?  It's  fine  enough 
for  a  ridp  on  the  top  of  the  'bus,  don't  you  think?" 

She  led  the  way  out  as  she  spoke.  Zoe  followed  re- 
luctantly, conscious  of  the  glances  of  many,  over  and 
above  all  of  those  of  the  two  men  whose  loud  whispers 
had  been  for  her  benefit.  Nor  could  she  help  looking 
back  to  see  if  they  were  still  watching  her. 

The  incident  did  not  escape  Mrs.  Dereham  any  more 
than  the  whispering  had.  In  fact,  it  was  that  which 


THE  LURE  OP  THE  FLAME  65 

made  her  rise  so  hurriedly  and  leave  the  shop.  For 
Zoe's  eager  look  in  search  of  admiration,  her  evident 
delight  on  finding  it,  her  many  little  ways  of  attracting 
it,  appalled  her.  So  also  did  the  amount  of  attention 
she  received.  What  if  the  child  were  to  resemble  her 
father  in  his  love  of  excitement,  his  disregard  of  duty 
and  custom? 

She  knew  Zoe  was  vain,  somewhat  selfish,  and  head- 
long. But  she  had  had  no  idea  that  these  faults 
swamped  her  better  self  to  such  an  extent,  nor  that 
she,  by  her  foolish  indulgence  and  self-effacement,  had 
encouraged  them  in  every  way. 

And  instead  of  appealing  to  the  girl's  intelligence 
and  better  feelings  by  opening  her  own  heart  and  re- 
vealing all  she  had  withheld — the  truth  about  the 
father  who  was  still  alive  although  Zoe  thought  him 
dead,  her  reasons  for  refusing  to  let  her  become  an 
actress,  the  dangers  around — she  shut  it  up  more  closely 
than  ever  and  decided  to  keep  Zoe  even  more  beneath 
her  wing. 

Thus  in  her  desire  to  do  her  best  for  the  girl  she  now 
did  her  worst,  and  both  returned  home  in  anything  but 
a  happy  mood. 

They  had  reached  the  end  of  their  journey,  and  were 
turning  into  the  street  where  they  lived,  when  they 
came  face  to  face  with  a  bright-eyed  little  lady. 

"Ah,  Mrs.  Dereham,  how  are  you?"  she  exclaimed, 
with  a  slightly  broken  accent.  "And  Zoe!  Then  it  is 
true  that  you  are  back!  I  would  not  believe  it.  I 
said  it  was  too  soon.  Christmas  is  not  yet." 

"I — I  wasn't  well,"  said  Zoe.  "And  anyhow  I  was 
leaving  for  good  at  Christmas.  And  it  was  more  con- 
venient for  me  to  come  now,  so  I  came,  you  see." 

"Yes,  I  see,"  nodded  Madame  Lefont.  "And  you 
have  left  for  good!  You  are  grown  up.  Yes,  I  see 
the  hair  is  no  longer  down — it  suits  you  like  that. 


And  what  does  this  being  at  home  mean?  Are  we  go- 
ing to  be  rivals  in  teaching  French,  you  and  me?  Or 
have  you  found  something  better  to  do,  something  that 
will  not  take  the  color  out  of  those  cheeks,  the  life  out 
of  those  eyes?" 

"I'm  teaching  Fanny  Broome-Taylor, "  said  Zoe,  with 
a  grimace. 

"Your  eyes  are  lively  enough,  Madame,"  interjected 
Mrs.  Dereham  quickly.  "And  you  have  been  teaching 
for  years!  Zoe  hasn't  enough  work  to  take  away  her 
color,  or — " 

"How  do  you  know  that?"  demanded  the  French- 
woman. "Fanny  Broome-Taylor  is  a  leetle  devil.  She 
wears  out  everyone.  As  for  me  teaching  all  those 
years — I  had  my  youth  first.  And  I  was  not  preety  like 
Zoe." 

"Oh,  Madame!"  deprecated  Zoe,  her  face  bright- 
ening. 

"It's  true.  I  was  never  preety  like  you,  my  shild. 
A  governess  must  not  be  too  preety,  you  know.  If  she 
is,  she  gets  no  work.  Or  if  she  gets  work,  it  is  with 
leetle  devils  like  Fanny  who  have  no  brothers,  no 
fathers  perhaps — " 

She  nodded  meaningly,  her  bright  eyes  darting  from 
Zoe  to  Mrs.  Dereham,  who  listened  with  an  angry  flush 
on  her  face. 

"Mother  has  always  heaps  to  do,"  began  Zoe 
loyally. 

"Yes,"  retorted  Madame,  "but  she  is  not  a  young 
girl  like  you.  Bah!  It  is  weecked  to  make  her  teach 
with  that  face,"  she  added,  turning  to  Mrs.  Dereham. 
"That's  true,  you  know!" 

"There's  nothing  else  she  can  do,"  faltered  Mrs. 
Dereham,  who  had  always  said  Madame  Lefont  was  too 
frivolous  for  a  governess. 

"Nothing!    La,  la!    Many  things  surely!" 


THE  LURE  OP  THE  FLAME  67 

"I  want  to  be  an  actress,"  exclaimed  Zoe,  delighted 
to  have  found  a  champion. 

"Ah!  Why  not?  There  is  no  harm  in  that.  There 
are  great  and  good  women  who  are  actresses.  And 
there  are  bad,  too.  So  there  are  in  everything." 

"Mother  won't  hear  of  it— that's  why?  But  at 
Sainte  Croix  they  said  I  should  make  a  good  one,  and 
now  I  know  Madame  Dardino — " 

"La  Dardino!    You  know  her?" 

"We  have  just  been  to  see  her  act!  She's  lovely — 
and—" 

"You  know  Dardino!"  repeated  Madame,  turning 
in  astonishment  to  Mrs.  Dereham.  "Ah,  well,  then  I 
know,  Zoe,  why  your  mother  says  she  does  not  want 
you  to  be  an  actress.  She  would  not  like  you  to  be 
like  Dardino — and  I'm  not  surprised!" 

"If  only  I  were  half  as  good,  it  would  be  much  bet- 
ter for  us  both!"  retorted  the  girl,  fiercely,  reading 
more  of  the  governessy  look  in  the  Frenchwoman's  face 
than  she  had  ever  seen  there  before. 

"Worse — worse.  God  has  not  given  you  the  gift 
of  beauty  for  you  to  make  of  it  a  curse,"  replied 
the  Frenchwoman,  using  the  same  words  almost 
as  Monsieur  Roland  had  spoken  in  the  punish- 
ment room.  "Through  it,  however,  you  have  the  power 
of—" 

"I  know,"  interrupted  Zoe,  "of  becoming  a  very 
good  or  a  very  wicked  woman.  It's  been  said  to  me 
before.  And  I  answered  that  I  would  rather  be  wicked, 
if  being  good  means  being  dull  and  stodgy.  I  mean  it, 
too!" 

"Oh,  I  believe  you!  But  I  hope  you  won't,  for  your 
mother's  sake.  But  I  must  say  good-by.  I  have  a  les- 
son to  give." 

Madame  turned  away  with  a  smile,  and  Mrs.  Dere- 
ham and  Zoe  resumed  their  walk. 


68  THE  LURE  OP  THE  FLAME 

"I  wish  you  wouldn't  say  such  wild  things,  Zoe," 
said  her  mother  after  a  slight  pause,  during  which  she 
had  evidently  wondered  whether  to  speak  or  not. 

"Well,  why  do  people  say  such  things  to  me?  Why 
should  I  have  more  power  for  good  and  evil  than  others  ? 
Why  must  I  be  preached  at,  about  my  face — which  I 
can't  help—" 

"I'm  sure  you  needn't  want  to.  It's  a  sweet  little 
face  when  you're  good." 

"There  you  are!  Good.  I  hate  the  word.  And 
why  should  Madame  Dardino  put  you  off  my  ever  act- 
ing? She  looked  lovely  in  her  tights — and  I'd  give 
anything  to  wear  them,  too.  It's  only  because  they're 
jealous  of  her  figure,  and — " 

"Oh,  Zoe,  my  dear." 

'"It's  true,  you  know  it  is!  I  shouldn't  think  any 
the  less  of  you  if  you  walked  about  in  tights — and — 
I  won't  have  people  run  her  down,  when  she's  been 
so  kind  to  me." 

"Dear.  You  don't  understand.  Some  people  are 
not  nice  to  have  as  friends — " 

"I'm  not  going  to  give  up  Madame  Dardino,  no  mat- 
ter what  you  say,"  retorted  Zoe  as  they  entered  the 
house.  And,  although  she  longed  for  the  conversation 
to  go  on,  so  that  she  might  find  out  what  these  horrid 
grown-ups  really  meant,  so  that  she  might  again  bring 
up  the  subject  of  her  acting  and  succeed  in  talking  her 
mother  over,  she  felt  unable  to  continue  it  in  the  face 
of  her  mother's  evident  disapproval  and  reluctance  to 
reply. 

"I'm  a  beast,"  she  told  herself,  when  after  an  early 
supper  she  went  to  bed,  turning  the  key  in  her  door 
with  a  feeling  of  relief.  "I  forget  all  Mother  has  done 
for  me.  But  I  don't,  I  don't!  It's  she  who  forgets 
I'm  only  a  girl,  and  that  I  hate  teaching,  and  that 
it's  horribly  dull  here!" 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME  69' 

She  brushed  the  tears  from  her  eyes  and  turned  to 
her  mirror. 

What  had  Madame  Lefont  said? 

"God  has  given  you  the  gift — "  No,  no,  not  those 
tiresome  words! — "It  is  weecked  to  let  her  teach  with 
a  face  like  that!" 

She  turned  the  lights  up  and  lit  a  couple  of  candles, 
which  she  stood  on  the  dressing-table.  Then  she  bent 
eagerly  to  her  reflection. 

"It  is  weecked  to  let  her  teach  with  a  face  like 
that!"  Why?  She  looked  hard. 

The  face  that  looked  back  at  her  was  very  young, 
and  very  pathetic,  and  very  charming.  It  was  a  lovely 
little  face,  like  a  rain-swept  flower,  eyes  gazing  stead- 
ily through  long-curved  lashes,  lips  pouting  for  a  kiss, 
hair  gleaming  gold  beneath  the  light. 

She  drew  a  deep  breath  and  smiled. 

The  change  was  magical.  It  was  as  though  the  sun 
had  entered  the  mirror.  Her  eyes  danced,  her  lips 
shone. 

Yes.     She  was  very  pretty.     More — lovely! 

Even  her  mother  had  acknowledged  it.  Grudgingly 
of  course,  for  fear  it  would  make  her  vain.  As  if  be- 
ing told  a  thing  you  knew  so  well,  could  do  anything 
of  the  kind! 

She  was  as  pretty  as  Dardino.  But  would  she  look 
as  nice  in  tights — at  a  distance?  Nicer,  close  to?  She 
recalled  the  uncomfortable  feeling  she  had  had  when 
brought  face  to  face  with  the  actress  in  the  dressing- 
room. 

She  tilted  the  mirror  until  it  reflected  her  entirely. 
Then  she  began  to  undress,  watching  her  every  move- 
ment, wondering  all  the  time. 

She  looked  very  slim  in  her  old  combinations,  which 
were  too  short  and  too  small.  But  for  all  that  they 
were  quite  as  proper  as  Dardino 's  tights. 


70  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

Did  she  look  as  nice  as  Dardino,  close  to? 

A  thousand  times  nicer,  smiled  her  eyes. 

She  was  much  slimmer — longer  limbed.  Her  skin 
was  as  white  as  snow,  her  hair  rippling  in  waves  below 
her  waist,  enveloped  her  like  a  cloud.  She  was  a  fairy 
borne  on  the  summer  wind,  a  nymph  dancing  in  the 
moonlight. 

"What  a  shame  she  could  not  be  an  actress.  That 
not  one  of  those  who  so  admired  her  face  could  see  how 
beautiful  her  body  was. 

At  that  moment  someone  knocked  at  the  door,  and, 
shivering  back  from  her  reflection,  she  seized  her  night- 
gown and  threw  herself  upon  the  bed. 

Shame  she  had  not  felt  before  surged  over  her  in 
scorching  waves  as  her  mother  called  out: 

"Zoe,  what  are  you  doing?" 

It  was  no  good  pretending  to  be  asleep.  She  had 
probably  made  a  noise,  shaken  the  room,  betrayed  her- 
self by  the  light  peeping  under  the  door.  But  she  would 
not  let  her  in.  For  how  could  she  explain  the  tilted 
mirror,  the  illumination  of  candles? 

" Nothing,  Mother,  why?"  she  answered  quickly. 

"I  have  just  come  back  from  the  pillar  box.  And  as 
I  came  up  the  road  I  could  see  you  plainly  reflected  on 
your  blind.  You  should  be  more  careful  of  the  posi- 
tion of  your  candles  when  you  use  them.  Others  may 
see  you — may  have  done  so,  before.  It  isn't  nice — nor 
really  decent." 

Zoe's  cheeks  were  burning  like  fire.  She  pictured  a 
group  of  watchers  on  the  opposite  pavement,  at  the 
many  windows,  up  the  street. 

"I  was  only  undressing,"  she  stammered.  "There's 
nothing  terrible  in  that,  is  there?  Everybody  else  does 
the  same." 

"Well,  don't  do  it  again  with  a  lighted  candle  behind 
you,  that's  all.  Good  night,"  laughed  Mrs.  Dereham, 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME  71 

as  she  turned  to  her  own  room,  whilst  Zoe,  listening  to 
make  sure  that  she  had  gone,  seemed  to  hear  in  the  tick 
of  the  clock  outside: 

"Others  may  see  you — may  have  done  so  before." 

She  slipped  to  her  feet  and  stood  regarding  her  re- 
flection, her  eyes  wide  with  wondering. 

"Others  may  see  you." 

"Well,  Dardino  did  not  mind  that — and  wasn't  it  what 
you  wanted  yourself?  Why  should  you  feel  ashamed 
of  your  own  self — unless  you  were  ugly,  and  fat,  and 
unshapely?  Why  did  this  gentle  loving  mother  always 
make  you  feel  suddenly  afraid,  shocked  almost,  cer- 
tainly ashamed  of  what  you  had  said  or  done?  All  the 
same,  how  nice  you  looked  when  you  danced  just  now ! 

Long  after  Zoe  had  fallen  asleep  to  dream  of  herself 
tripping  the  boards  in  shrunken  tights,  with  Keith  and 
Hales  and  Buckell  applauding  her,  whilst  Dardino 
looked  on  disapprovingly  with  Madame  Lefont,  both 
unconscious  of  Raynor's  admiring  gaze  as  he  ogled  her 
from  behind,  Mrs.  Dereham  was  awake,  wondering  how 
she  was  going  to  wean  Zoe  from  Dardino 's  spell  and  the 
lure  of  London. 

And  in  her  distress  she  decided  suddenly  on  another 
foolish  move.  This  was  to  take  her  difficulties  to  the 
Vicar,  as  she  had  been  wont  to  do,  more  or  less,  since 
her  first  coming  to  the  town.  For,  although  he  was 
wise  enough  in  most  matters,  he  was  no  more  able  to 
understand  Mrs.  Dereham 's  present  trouble  than  she 
was  herself,  and  agreed  that  it  would  certainly  be  bet- 
ter to  keep  Zoe  entirely  out  of  temptation  by  acting  as 
Mrs.  Dereham  proposed,  forgetting  thereby  that  forbid- 
den fruit  only  seems  sweeter  because  it  is  forbidden. 

But  he  did  not  add  what  Mrs.  Dereham  told  herself. 
That  in  a  very  short  time  Christmas  would  be  there, 
with  plenty  of  wholesome  amusements  and  young  so- 
ciety, so  that  Zoe  might  not  want  to  go  to  London  or 


72  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

the  theater.  For  he  considered  that,  now  Zoe  was  no 
longer  a  schoolgirl  and  had  to  earn  her  own  living,  it 
would  be  a  mistake  for  people  to  notice  her  so  much. 
It  would  make  her  discontented  with  her  position,  and 
there  was  no  denying  that  she  was  much  too  attractive 
for  a  penniless  girl,  much  too  dangerous  to  have  about, 
spoiling  the  chances  of  one's  marriageable  daughters  by, 
attracting  other  people's  susceptible  sons. 

But  he  thought  that  regular  churchgoing  (the  curate 
was  a  very  much  married  man)  and  perhaps  a  class 
in  the  Sunday-school  might  have  a  beneficial  effect  in 
bringing  Zoe  to  a  contented  frame  of  mind.  The  con- 
stant repetition  of  the  catechism  must  perforce  become 
a  habit. 

Yes.  He  would  ask  Zoe  to  take  a  class,  without  saying 
a  word  about  this  conversation.  He  would  make  her 
feel  she  would  be  doing  him  a  favor.  She  could  hardly 
refuse  him  that. 


CHAPTER  VI 

IT  so  happened  that  two  or  three  days  passed  without 
the  Vicar  carrying  out  his  intention,  so  Zoe  con- 
tinued her  way  all  unconscious  of  the  favor  he  meant 
to  ask,  and  as  obsessed  as  ever  with  her  idea  of  leav- 
ing home  for  the  turmoil  of  London. 

She  found  it  more  difficult  than  ever  to  drum  things 
into  Fanny's  obstinate  little  head,  because  she  had  en- 
tirely lost  what  interest  she  had  ever  felt  in  her  work, 
and  it  was  as  hard  for  her  to  give  her  mind  to  the  les- 
sons as  it  was  for  Fanny  to  learn  them.  Therefore, 
it  is  not  surprising  that  Mrs.  Broome-Taylor  often 
interfered  and  corrected  her  before  the  child,  which  was 
good  for  neither. 

Perhaps  that  accounted  for  Fanny's  naughtiness  the 
day  after  her  dancing  lesson, — which  took  place  every 
Monday  afternoon, — though  there  may  be  something  in 
the  adage  that  familiarity  breeds  contempt. 

As  Fanny's  nurse  took  her  to  the  dancing  class,  Zoe 
was  free  then  for  the  present,  though  her  mother  hoped 
to  find  her  a  pupil,  for  French  or  music,  for  those  af- 
ternoons. For,  although  she  said  nothing  about  it,  she 
was  finding  it  more  and  more  difficult  to  make  ends 
meet.  Even  if  Zoe's  whole  wardrobe  had  not  wanted 
replenishing  she  loved  to  see  her  looking  more  tastefully, 
if  more  cheaply,  dressed  than  other  girls.  She  had 
been  vain  herself,  once — now  her  vanity  was  merged  in 
her  child  who,  after  one  or  two  demurs,  accepted  all 
she  was  given,  telling  herself  that  it  was  absolutely  nec- 
essary for  her  to  look  smart,  and  that  her  mother  had, 
of  course,  exaggerated  their  poverty. 

73 


74  THE  LUBE  OF  THE  FLAME 

Then,  too,  Zoe  had  a  robust,  if  a  fanciful,  appetite. 
It  was  necessary  to  give  her  plenty  to  eat  and  the  best 
food  was  the  cheapest  in  the  end.  For  yourself,  no 
longer  growing,  and  so  seldom  hungry,  it  did  not  mat- 
ter what  you  had.  Zoe  would  not  notice  when  she  was 
at  home,  and,  if  she  did,  could  easily  be  put  off  with 
an  excuse. 

On  this  particular  Tuesday  morning  Zoe  was  trying 
half-heartedly  enough  to  resume  the  history  lesson 
which  had  been  interrupted  by  a  stormy  interlude. 
But,  as  usual,  her  mind  was  on  other  things  and  she 
was  called  sharply  to  attention  by  Mrs.  Broome-Taylor, 
who  exclaimed: 

"What  do  you  mean,  Miss  Dereham?  You  have  just 
said  that  William  the  Conqueror  signed  Magna  Charta. 
Don't  you  remember  that  it — 

"Of  course  I  meant  King  John,"  said  Zoe,  flushing 
hotly  beneath  Fanny's  watchful  gaze. 

"Then,  why  didn't  you  say  so?  If  I  hadn't  been 
here,  your  mistake  would  never  have  been  corrected, 
and  Fanny  would  have  gone  through  life  believing 
that—" 

"No,  I  shouldn't,  Mammie,"  piped  the  child.  "7 
knew  quite  well  Miss  Dereham  was  wrong." 

She  looked  so  smug  and  virtuous  that  Zoe  longed  to 
cuff  her — told  herself  that  she  would  too,  if  she  had 
the  chance,  when  they  were  alone. 

"That's  right,  my  pet,"  smiled  the  foolish  mother. 
"But  you  should  have  said  so  at  once." 

"But  Miss  Dereham  says  I  mustn't  interrupt,  Mam- 
mie. She  says  she  has  enough  of  that  from  you  and 
Granny." 

"Oh,  Fanny,  that  isn't  quite  what  I  meant,"  ejacu- 
lated Zoe,  coloring  hotly  beneath  Mrs.  Broome-Taylor 's 
intent  eyes. 

"All  the  same  you  said  it,  didn't  you?"  retorted  the 


THE  LUEE  OF  THE  FLAME  75 

child.  "You  said  it  was  bad  manners  to  interfere. 
So  that's  why  I  held  my  tongue  just  now,  when  Mam- 
mie  went  for  her  crochet  hook." 

"Why?"  queried  her  mother,  eagerly. 

"She — she  said  Paris  is  the  capital  of  Spain — when  it 
isn't!"  bubbled  Fanny,  bursting  into  shrill  laughter,  her 
elfish  eyes  disappearing  in  the  creases  of  her  face,  her 
two  front  teeth  more  fang-like  than  ever. 

"Little  beast!"  thought  Zoe,  whilst  Mrs.  Broome- 
Tajlor  exclaimed  reproachfully:  "Oh,  Miss  Dereham, 
how  careless  of  you.  Fanny,  darling,  what  is  Paris  the 
capital  of?" 

"France,  of  course!  I  knew  that;  anyone  would! 
Bui  Miss  Dereham  said  Spain;  she  really  did,  Mam- 
miel" 

"I'm  sorry,  but  I  have  a  headache,"  stammered  Zoe, 
looting  miserable  enough  for  that  to  be  the  truth. 
"Those  are  such  stupid  mistakes  that  you  must  know 
I  vrasn't  thinking." 

"It  was  very  careless  of  you." 

"I  know — I  can't  imagine  what  I  could  be  thinking 
of,''  faltered  the  girl,  the  thought  of  Dardino  springing 
to  her  mind.  "But  I  really  have  a  headache." 

"Indeed!  Well,  it  isn't  due  to  hard  work,  I'm  sure. 
You  had  a  quiet  afternoon  yesterday,  unless  you  went 
tearing  about." 

"I  didn't,"  said  Zoe,  her  humility  vanishing  beneath 
the  lash. 

"You  governesses  are  so  foolish.  The  minute  you  are 
free  you  forget  about  your  duty  to  your  pupils  and 
use  yourselves  up,  and  we  have  to  suffer  for  your 
carelessness. ' ' 

"Have  I  a  duty  towards  my  pupils  when  I  am  no 
longer  with  them?" 

"Most  certainly,"  retorted  Mrs.  Broome-Taylor, 
flinching  a  little  beneath  the  girl's  eyes  which,  for  all 


76  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

their  calm,  presaged  battle.  "But,  as  you  have  a  head- 
ache, perhaps  it  would  be  better  for  you  to  go  for  the 
walk  now.  Fanny,  run  and  put  on  your  things." 

The  child  hesitated,  her  keen  little  nose  scenting  pow- 
der, and  her  desire  to  witness  the  explosion  being  greater 
than  any  other. 

"Go,"  repeated  her  mother,  rising  as  she  spoke  and 
moving  towards  the  doorway  through  which  Fanny 
slipped  reluctantly.  "And  as  for  you,  Miss  Dereham, 
I  must  ask  you  to  treat  me  with  more  respect  before 
Fanny.  Your  question  about  your  duty  was  meant  to 
be  impertinent,  for  you  know  as  well  as  I  do  what  it 
is." 

"Indeed  I  don't — "  began  the  girl,  the  temper  wlich 
had  made  her  the  terror  of  Sainte  Croiz,  rising  steadily 
as  she  told  herself  that  this  woman  was  a  bully;  that 
she  looked  more  like  a  seal  than  a  rabbit  and  just  as 
sleek  and  slimy;  that  she  hated  her. 

"Are  you  not  paid  to  teach  Fanny  to  the  best  of 
your  abilities?"  retorted  Mrs.  Broome-Taylor.  "Ana  to 
that  end,  of  course,  your  spare  time  ought  to  be  spent 
in  improving  your  mind  and  refreshing  your  memory. 
For  you  cannot  expect  me  to  believe  that  a  mere  hesd- 
ache  made  you  say  that  Paris  is  in  Spain  or  that  Will- 
iam the — " 

"In  other  words,  you  expect  me  to  devote  every  min- 
ute to  your  child?"  broke  in  Zoe  passionately,  unable 
to  control  herself  any  longer.  "But  even  you — her 
mother — don't  do  that!" 

"I  am  speaking  of  you — her  governess,"  said  Mrs. 
Broome-Taylor,  drawing  herself  up  stiffly.  "I  engage 
you  and  pay  you  and — " 

"Do  you  think  that  ten  shillings  a  week,  with  lunch, 
and  tea  thrown  in,  can  buy  my  every  thought?  For  I 
don't!  I've  as  much  right  as  anyone  to  recreation, 
and  more.  For  Fanny  is  a  naughty  child  and  com- 


THE  LUEE  OF  THE  FLAME  77 

pletely  tires  one  out.  And  I'm  only  too  glad  to  forget 
her  when  I  leave  the  house — " 

"How  dare  you  speak  like  that!" 

"You  make  me — by  your  interference,  and — " 

"You  forget  yourself,  Miss  Dereham.  You  had  bet- 
ter go  and  get  ready  for  your  walk  before  you  say 
any  more.  I  cannot  stand  much  more  of  this." 

"Nor  can  I.  And  I  don't  mind  what  I  say.  I 
mean  it  all.  I  hate  teaching.  I  hate  Fanny.  I  hate 
you—" 

"That  is  enough.  You  will  please  take  Fanny  for 
her  walk  and  I  will  speak  to  you  when  you  come  back. 
Were  it  not  for  your  mother's  sake,  I  would  dismiss 
you  at  once.  But  I  know  what  a  hard  life  hers  is,  and 
feel  too  deeply  for  her  to  punish  you  as  you  deserve." 

"I  wonder  you  consider  her  at  all,  as  she's  only  a 
governess,"  retorted  Zoe  rudely.  But  her  heart  mis- 
gave her  a  little  as  she  suddenly  realized  how  she  had 
allowed  her  anger  to  run  away  with  her  tongue,  and 
pictured  her  mother's  grief  on  hearing  all  about  it. 

"You  are  a  very  foolish  girl,"  replied  Mrs.  Broome- 
Taylor.  "So  foolish  that  I  forgive  your  outburst,  and 
put  it  down  to  your  not  feeling  well.  But  it  is  very 
unkind  of  you,  all  the  same.  For  we  all  like  you.  And 
Fanny,  whom  you  abuse  so  unjustly,  talks  of  no  one 
else  but  you — when  you  are  not  here.  So  we'll  say 
nothing  more  about  this,  shall  we?" 

She  looked  a  little  anxiously  into  the  girl's  face.  She 
had  no  desire  to  part  with  her.  For  Zoe  knew  more 
than  most  of  the  many  young  governesses  she  had  tried 
— had,  by  her  beauty  and  high  spirits,  more  hold  over 
Fanny — was  musical  and  spoke  French  well.  She  con- 
sidered that  she  was  behaving  magnanimously  and  that 
Zoe  ought  to  be  grateful.  Therefore,  she  was  surprised 
at  the  silence  with  which  her  words  were  received,  at 
the  angry  sullen  look  with  which  her  smile  was  met. 


78  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

It  was  Fanny  who  broke  the  silence  by  rushing  into 
the  room  exclaiming: 

"Do  let's  go  to  the  Park,  darling  Miss  Dereham!" 
She  smiled  so  coaxingly,  slipping  her  little  hand  into 
Zoe's,  that  the  girl's  heart  swelled  suddenly  with  re- 
morse for  having  thought,  and  called,  her  horrid. 
After  all,  she  was  only  a  poor  little  kid  with  a  fool  of 
a  mother!  So  her  anger  vanished  as  it  always  did 
at  a  kind  word  or  the  slightest  advance  from  the  enemy. 
That  it  had  not  done  so  in  response  to  Mrs.  Broome- 
Taylor's  overture  was  because  she  guessed  why  it  was 
made  and  was  still  too  sore  to  be  humbugged.  And, 
although  she  felt  ashamed  of  herself,  she  was  not  going 
to  say  she  was  sorry. 

"Are  we  to  stay  until  lunch-time?"  she  asked  in- 
stead. 

"You  may  as  well.  After  an  easy  day  you'll 
feel  all  the  more  eager  for  the  lessons  to-morrow. 
Be  a  good  girl,  Fanny,  and  don't  tire  Miss  Dere- 
ham." 

"Hypocritical  old  cat,"  thought  Zoe,  despite  her 
qualms  of  remorse,  as  she  went  to  fetch  her  things. 

And  just  because  she  was  in  the  mood  for  resenting 
slights,  she  received  many  on  their  way  to  the  Park. 
Girls  she  had  known  all  their  lives  were  hurried  past  her 
by  their  mothers.  Others,  walking  alone,  bowed  stiffly, 
without  stopping.  One  or  two  looked  confused.  She 
began  to  understand  why  no  one  had  looked  her  up 
since  her  return,  though  she  had  been  back  so  short 
a  time  that  she  had  thought  nothing  about  it.  She  had 
felt  so  sure  of  her  friends  and  herself  that  it  had  never 
entered  her  head  to  look  for  any  difference  in  their  man- 
ner. But  now,  with  Mrs.  Broome-Taylor 's  words  rank- 
ling in  her  mind,  she  knew  that  they  considered  her 
no  longer  as  an  equal — that  she  was  to  them  what  the 
grocer's  daughter  was  to  her — just  because  she  was 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME  79 

teaching  Fanny.  The  iron  bit  deep  into  her  soul,  stir- 
ring up  a  bitterness  which  lasted  throughout  her  life, — 
a  sense  of  injustice  and  unfairness  against  her  kind,  a 
biting  scorn. 

She  was  so  overwhelmed  by  these  feelings  that  she 
did  not  speak  to  the  child,  who  walked  demurely  by  her 
side,  until  they  entered  the  Park  gates. 

Here  Nature  held  full  sway  so  that  even  in  winter 
the  place  was  beautiful  with  its  medley  of  emerald 
slopes,  dipping  into  a  deep-throated  valley  of  hawthorn 
and  bramble,  or  climbing  through  a  forest  of  bracken 
to  a  plateau  dotted  with  beech  trees. 

From  the  uneven  path,  circling  the  lower  part  from 
gate  to  gate,  you  looked  down  on  the  Manor  which  re- 
sembled an  ugly  cardboard  toy  with  its  square  gray 
walls,  and  prim  gardens,  and  walled-in  bit  of  park. 
From  the  plateau  you  had  a  view  of  the  county  for 
miles  around — of  the  distant  hills  with  their  milk-white 
Pilgrim's  Way. 

Zoe  had  always  felt  the  spell  of  this  beautiful  spot 
and  had  soon  discovered  that  Fanny  shared  her  liking 
for  it  and  enjoyed  hearing  about  the  fairies  camping 
under  the  bracken,  or  watching  the  rabbits  play  round- 
ers on  the  greensward. 

What  had  been  left  unspoiled  in  the  child  was  seen 
at  its  best  here.  She  forgot  to  be  peevish  or  obsti- 
nate. The  stifling  influence  of  a  foolish  mother  and  a 
still  more  idiotic  grandmother  could  not  reach  so  far. 
She  became  a  child  full  of  charm  and  fascination — 
elfish  at  times,  perhaps,  but  lovable  enough. 

So  when  she  tugged  at  Zoe's  hand,  as  they  turned 
off  the  trodden  path  on  the  soft  springy  green  of  the 
nearest  slope,  she  whispered  coaxingly: 

"Please  tell  me  about  Saturday,  and  Madame  Dar- 
dino,  and — " 

"You  don't  deserve  it,"  answered  Zoe. 


80  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

"Oh,  please!  I  wasn't  naughty  on  purpose.  I 
really  wasn't.  And  I'm  sorry;  now  please  tell  me." 

"You  were  a  nasty  little  tell-tale-tit,  though." 

"No.    I  amn't." 

"Yes,  you  are.  You  knew  quite  well  that  I  only 
made  a  mistake,  you  little  goose ! ' ' 

"If  I  was  a  real  tell-tale-tit,"  said  Fanny,  turning 
the  subject  adroitly,  "I'd  have  told  you  what  I  heard 
yesterday." 

"Pooh!  If  you  had  anything  to  tell,  you  couldn't 
help  yourself." 

"Couldn't  I?  It's  what  Ettie  Wood's  Nanna  told 
mine  at  the  dancing  class.  And  it's  about  you,"  whis- 
pered Fanny,  her  face  full  of  elfish  beauty,  despite  the 
two  teeth  poking  beyond  her  lips. 

"Servants'  gossip  isn't  worth  listening  to,  still  less 
repeating,  as  I've  told  you  before,"  retorted  Zoe.  Yet 
curiosity  rioted  loudly  in  her  heart.  For  Ettie  "Wood 
was  the  Vicar's  youngest  child  and  the  sister  of  Miriam 
who  had  been  a  great  holiday  friend  of  Zoe's,  and 
whose  defection  that  morning,  as  she  passed  hurriedly 
with  a  half  smile,  had  hurt  almost  more  than  any- 
one's. 

What  could  those  horrid  women  have  said  about  her? 
She  knew  that  Fanny's  nurse  resented  her  presence  in 
the  house,  and  was  jealous  of  her.  But  the  Woods' 
Nanna  was  a  nice  old  family  servant  with  no  preten- 
sions to  anything  else — certainly  not  to  considering  her- 
self on  the  same  footing  as  the  governess. 

"If  you  tell  me  about  Saturday  again,  I'll  tell  you 
what  they  said,"  murmured  Fanny,  who  evidently 
knew  the  frailty  of  her  sex. 

"Certainly  not.  Let's  see  if  there  are  any  rabbits 
over  there." 

"Miriam  is  going  to  have  a  birthday  party  at  the 
Church  Hall  next  Monday  night,  so  we've  got  to  have 


THE  LUBE  OP  THE  FLAME  81 

the  dancing  at  eleven  o'clock  instead  of  two,"  went 
on  the  child,  as  they  moved  further  up  and  stopped 
before  a  glade  of  velvety  grass  flanked  by  bracken  and 
bramble  bushes  stretching  far  before  them. 

"Is  that  all?"  retorted  Zoe,  with  well-feigned  in- 
difference. 

"Ah!  but  she's  going  to  have  a  big  ball.  And  a 
band!  And  the  hall  is  to  be  decorated,  that's  why  they 
want  it  in  the  afternoon!  It's  to  be  ever  so  grand, 
because  she's  eighteen.  And  Lady  Hitchly's  coming 
from  the  Manor,  and  lots  of  people  in  a  special  train ! ' ' 

Zoe  was  cut  to  the  quick.  She  had  heard  nothing 
of  this  and  had  never  been  left  out  of  anything  given 
by  the  Woods.  She  would  have  said  it  was  impossi- 
ble for  them  to  forget  her. 

"Did  you  know?"  asked  Fanny. 

"Of  course,"  lied  Zoe,  suddenly  buoyed  by  the 
thought  that  that  was  the  sole  reason  for  Miriam's 
slighting  behavior  just  now.  They  had  forgotten  her, 
and  Miriam  felt  ashamed.  Of  course  the  "Woods 
wouldn't  look  down  on  her;  why  should  they?  Had 
not  they  always  been  the  best  of  friends?  Perhaps 
she  would  find  a  belated  invitation  when  she  got  home. 
And  when  all  those  horrid  people,  who  had  nearly 
cut  her,  saw  her  at  the  ball  they  too  would  feel  ashamed 
and  try  to  make  up  to  her.  But  she  would  let  them 
see  that  she  wasn't  to  be  taken  up  and  dropped  so 
easily.  She  would — 

"But  you're  not  going,  anyhow!"  declared  the  child. 

"Don't  you  be  so  sure,  Miss  Paul  Pry." 

"But  you  aren't.     I  know.     Ettie's  Nanna  said  so." 

"That's  because  I  haven't  answered  the  invitation 
yet,"  said  Zoe,  her  hatred  of  the  child  reviving  as  she 
looked  down  at  her. 

"Well,  my  Nannie  said:  'How  sly  of  Miss  Zoe  not 
to  tell  us  about  it!'  And  Ettie's  Nanna  laughed  and 


82  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

said:  'But  does  she  know?  You  don't  suppose  they've 
invited  her?'  And  my  Nannie  said  she  thought  you 
ought  to  go,  though  it  might  do  you  good  to  take  you 
down  a  peg  or  two,  and  Ettie's  Nanna  said  yes,  it  was 
time  you  was  shown  your  place,  and — " 

"That  isn't  true,  you  little  beast,"  cried  Zoe,  shak- 
ing her  by  the  arm.  "You're  inventing  it." 

"No,  I  aren't.  God's  truth,  I  aren't,"  whimpered 
the  child,  springing  away. 

"Ettie's  nurse  is  a  nice  old  woman.  She's  never 
said  nasty  things  about  me,  I'm  sure." 

"All  the  same,  she  did  say  that!"  retorted  Fanny, 
keeping  her  distance,  as  she  flung  out  the  words  with 
as  much  gusto  as  though  she  knew  how  they  would 
hurt.  "And  when  I  asked  what  your  place  was,  she 
said  it  was  with  me — " 

"How  very  kind  of  her!"  sneered  Zoe. 

" — And  not  trying  to  ape  your  betters  and  going  to 
dances  where  you'd  be  deetrowed.  And  when  I  said, 
what  is  deetrowed — she  said  it  was  the  French  for  'in 
the  way,'  and  that  you  hadn't  taught  me  much  if  I 
didn't  know  that!" 

"Why  should  I  be  in  the  way  at  Miriam's  danced" 
asked  Zoe,  her  eyes  flashing  angrily. 

"I  don't  know,"  shrugged  Fanny.  "P'r'aps  she 
thinks  you  can't  dance.  But  you  can,  can't  you?" 

"As  well,  if  not  better,  than  anyone  you  know,"  said 
Zoe. 

"Can  you  dance  like  you  saw  Madame  Dardino 
dance?" 

Zoe's  thoughts  flew  to  the  night  when  her  gyrations 
before  the  looking-glass  had  been  reflected  on  the  blind. 
She  had  repeated  them  since,  longing  for  more  room, 
for  someone  to  see  and  applaud  her. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  faltered,  glancing  round. 
"Would  you  like  to  see  me  now?" 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME  83 

"Oh,  please!     I'll  be  ever's  good!" 

"If  I  dance  it'll  be  because  I  want  to  see  if  I  can, 
on  this  lovely  grass.  Not  because  you  deserve  it,  for 
you've  been  a  naughty  little  girl  and — " 

"I'll  be  good  for  everan'ever  now." 

"Well,  then — stand  there  and  hold  my  hat." 

Waving  her  arms,  bending,  kneeling,  whirling,  Zoe 
went  up  and  down  the  slope  like  thistledown  before 
the  wind.  Her  feet  barely  touched  the  ground,  her 
eyes  glowed,  her  hair  shook  out  its  pins  and  tumbled 
about  her  shoulders. 

Fanny  drew  a  long  breath  of  delight,  then  clapped 
her  hands  and  cried: 

"Sing  too,  Dardino.     Sing!" 

And  Zoe  sang  in  a  sweet,  clear  soprano,  casting  fur- 
tive sidelong  glances  towards  the  half-hidden  figure  of 
a  man  whom  she  had  watched  coming  along  the  path. 
She  had  seen  him  for  some  time,  and  after  a  thrill  of 
nervousness,  when  she  had  felt  half  inclined  to  stop, 
had  quickened  her  dance,  throwing  all  her  energies  into 
it,  hoping  he  would  pause  to  look  at  her.  And  as  he 
did  so,  her  blood  tingled  with  excitement,  her  heart 
leaped  for  joy.  It  did  not  matter  who  or  what  he  was 
— he  was  another  pair  of  eyes  and  he  thought  her  beau- 
tiful: there  was  no  doubt  of  it,  since  he  had  stopped. 

She  ended  Dardino 's  most  famous  song  with  a 
breathless  laugh  and  he  came  forward  clapping  loudly. 
A  young  man,  with  a  round  baby  face  and  twinkling 
eyes,  in  well-cut  tweeds  and  thick  brown  boots. 

' '  That  was  splendid ! "  he  exclaimed,  as  Fanny  shrank 
away  towards  Zoe,  who  was  twisting  up  her  hair. 
"Dardino  to  the  life!  But  a  jolly  sight  better!" 

"Oh,  no!"  panted  Zoe,  looking  pleased.  "You  don't 
mean  it." 

"I  do.  Honor  bright,  I  do.  Dardino 's  getting  old, 
and  fat.  You'd  soon  put  her  nose  out  of  joint  if  you 


84 

had  a  lesson  or  two.     And  you'd  make  your  fortune 
on  the  stage.     Perhaps  that's  where  you  are?" 

"No,  indeed,  I've  no  such  luck!"  replied  the  girl, 
all  sense  of  prudence  flying  to  the  winds.  Deaf  to  the 
striking  of  the  Manor  clock,  to  the  child's  peevish, 
"Do  let's  go,  Miss  Dereham,"  to  everything  but  this 
chance  of  speaking  about  the  life  she  craved  for,  and 
reaping  what  sympathy  she  could  from  this  new 
admirer. 

"Well,  then,  all  I  can  say  is  that  it's  a  waste  for 
you  not  to  go,"  he  retorted.  "But  you  know  that, 
don't  you?  Your  mirror  must  have  told  you  that  doz- 
ens of  times,  and  your  friends  too,  and — " 

"Not  they!  They  expect  me  to  teach.  This  little 
girl  is  my  pupil,"  said  Zoe  bitterly. 

He  burst  out  laughing,  puckering  his  face  into  a 
thousand  wrinkles,  his  rounder  mouth  opening  wide. 

"Excuse  me,"  he  gasped.  "But  this  is  the  funniest 
thing  I've  heard  for  days.  The  funniest,  by  gum,  the 
funniest!  You  teaching  her!  And  she  looking  as  cute 
as  a  wagonload  of  monkeys,  and  as  solemn  as  a  par- 
son at  a  funeral." 

"It  amuses  you  more  than  it  does  me,"  exclaimed 
Zoe,  flushing  indignantly. 

"I'm  sorry,  but  really  it — it's  so  funny!  And  you 
dancing  and  singing  like  that,  and  having  to  teach  a 
little  kid  when—" 

"Come  away,  Miss  Dereham.  He's  a  rude  man,  and 
Mammie'll  be  ever  so  angry,"  murmured  Fanny,  pull- 
ing at  her  hand,  and  looking  reproachfully  at  the 
stranger. 

"And  then  you  say  you're  not  wasted!"  he  went  on 
as  Zoe  began  to  walk  towards  the  path.  "Bah,  I 
wouldn't  stick  it  a  day  if  I  were  you.  I'd  go  straight 
to  someone  who  would  help  me — I  say,  you  aren't  angry, 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME  85 

are  you?  I  meant  no  harm.  But  it's  such  a  damned 
shame,  you  know — " 

He  said  that  so  like  Roy  Keith  that  the  thought 
that  she  had  done  wrong  in  speaking,  and  listening, 
to  him  vanished  almost  at  its  birth,  and  she  smiled  back 
into  the  very  pink  and  fat  and  babyish  round  face. 

"No,  I'm  not  angry,"  she  murmured.  "It's  very 
good  of  you  to  say  such  nice  things.  But  of  course, 
if  I  had  known  you  were  there — I — I  shouldn't  have 
been  so  silly.  We  were  only  playing,  weren't  we, 
Fanny—?" 

"Miss  Dereham  was  Madame  Dardino,  and  I  was 
Miss  Dereham,"  piped  the  child,  her  shrewd  eyes  up- 
raised to  his. 

"So  I  guessed.  Madame  Dardino  better  than  she 
is,  and  Miss — Dereham,  is  it? — as  solemn  as  she  isn't!" 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Zoe.  "You — you — it's  too  bad  of 
you!" 

"Are  you  going  that  way?  I  was  going  the  other, 
to  East  Park,  but  if  I  may  walk  with  you,  I'll — " 

"We  have  to  hurry,"  she  evaded,  the  voice  of  pru- 
dence clamoring  all  the  more  loudly  because  it  had 
been  silenced  for  so  long.  Here,  where  no  one  could 
see  them — where,  also,  no  one  could  have  helped  if  he 
had  attempted  to  murder  them — she  could  hardly  re- 
fuse to  listen  to  him.  His  cherubic  face  was  pleasant 
enough  to  look  at,  his  manner  quite  nice.  But  beyond 
the  Park  gates,  or  even  near  them,  it  was  wiser  to  walk 
alone. 

"Which  I  take  to  mean,  no,"  he  exclaimed  good- 
naturedly.  "Well,  anything  to  oblige,  I'm  sure.  I 
don't  deserve  to  be  allowed  to  walk  with  a  pretty  girl 
— I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Soberkid,  two  pretty  girls  is 
what  I  ought  to  say." 

"  'Tisn't,"  snapped  Fanny. 


86  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

"Very  well.  I  don't  contradict  ladies.  Well  leave 
it  at  one." 

His  eyes  told  plainly  enough  which  was  the  one ;  told 
something  else  which  called  the  color  to  Zoe's  brow  and 
whipped  up  her  flagging  caution. 

"We  must  make  haste,  Fanny,"  she  exclaimed. 

' '  Will  you  come,  to-morrow  ?  "  he  asked. 

"It's  getting  late  and  we  lunch  at — " 

"To-morrow,  same  time?" 

She  glanced  at  Fanny,  who  had  run  on  a  few  steps. 
Had  she  heard?  It  was  not  always  easy  to  guess  what 
was  going  on  in  that  small  head. 

"Same  time?"  he  repeated,  smiling  persuasively. 

"I — I  don't  know,"  she  stammered. 

"I  do.     Ta-ta." 

He  stood  still  as  they  went  on.  Zoe,  glancing  back 
furtively,  was  annoyed  to  see  that  he  was  still  looking 
after  them. 

"He's  a  nasty,  rude  man,  isn't  he?"  said  Fanny. 
"And  we  won't  see  him  to-morrow,  will  we?" 

"Of  course  not,"  said  Zoe. 

"  'Cause,  you  know,  I'm  sure  Mammie  wouldn't  like 
it" 

"Well,  you  needn't  bother  her  about  him.  She 
might  stop  our  coming  here  altogether  then — and  you 
wouldn't  like  that.  For  he  has  as  much  right  to  walk 
here  as  we  have,  you  know." 

"Yes — and  of  course  I  sha'n't  say  nothink,"  piped 
the  child,  as  they  passed  into  the  road  which  led  by 
one  or  two  old-fashioned  houses  into  the  Market  Place. 

Zoe,  who  had  begun  to  wonder  what  Mrs.  Broome- 
Taylor  would  say,  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief.  Without 
telling  Fanny  to  hold  her  tongue,  she  had  made  sure 
of  her  doing  so,  and  if  they  chanced  to  meet  the  stran- 
ger again,  well — the  Park  was  open  to  all. 

She  was  not  sure  whether  she  wanted  to  see  him 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME  87 

again.  She  certainly  ought  not  to  wish  it,  for  he  was 
only  a  superior  clerk  or  tradesman.  But  what  did  that 
matter?  He  was  more  interesting  than  Fanny,  and 
it  was  refreshing  to  meet  anyone  whose  eyes  met  yours 
with  nothing  but  admiration,  even  if  they  made  you 
feel  a  little  nervous  at  times.  But  did  they?  Had  not 
you  fancied  it?  Why  should  you  feel  so?  Could  you 
feel  so  again?  It  would  be  worth  while  meeting  him 
if  only  to  set  your  mind  at  rest  about  that. 

And  now,  who  should  she  see,  as  they  crossed  the 
road,  but  the  Vicar  and  Effie.  They  were  coming  out 
of  a  shop,  and  as  the  two  children  ran  into  each  other's 
arms,  he  turned  smilingly  to  Zoe,  exclaiming: 

"Well,  now,  this  is  lucky!  I  wanted  particularly  to 
see  you.  Now,  then,  Mischief  in  front!" 

The  children  obeyed  laughingly,  whilst  Zoe's  eyes  lit 
up  in  pleasure  and  her  face  glowed.  He  was  going  to 
tell  her  that  she  must  come  to  Miriam's  party,  that 
they  always  meant  to  ask  her,  that  she  must  forgive 
them  for  their  oversight. 

But  as  he  went  on  to  explain  that  he  was  short  of 
Sunday-school  workers  and  wanted  to  enlist  her  help, 
explaining  how  good  it  would  be  for  her,  her  pleased 
expression  faded  away  and  her  heart  sank. 

"You  want  me  to  take  a  class!"  she  exclaimed. 

"That's  it.     Some  of  the  little  girls,  if  you  will." 

"I— don't  know—"  she  hesitated.  "I  don't 
like  teaching  at  all — and — I  prefer  boys.  It  would  be 
more  of  a  change  after  being  with  Fanny  all  the 
week." 

"Boys!    Well,  it  might  be  managed,"  he  demurred. 

"But  I'm  not  a  bit  of  good,  really.  You  see,  we  had 
so  much  religion  at  school  that — I  oughtn't  to  say  it 
to  you — I  made  up  my  mind  I'd  take  a  rest  from  the 
Bible  and—" 

"I  understand,"  he  smiled.    "They're  too  zealous  in 


88  THE  LUKE  OF  THE  FLAME 

that  sect — defeat  their  own  ends  like  most  of  these  non- 
conformists. And  if  you  will  help  me,  I  promise  you 
wouldn't  find  your  task  as  gloomy  as  that.  I'll  be 
only  too  glad  to — "  He  stopped  to  scrape  his  throat. 
Something  seemed  to  puzzle  him  as  he  glanced  at  her 
— the  look  she  knew  so  well  crept  into  his  eyes  and, 
although  she  fancied  she  knew  what  he  was  going  to 
say,  that  the  bribe  he  offered  would  be  the  longed-for 
invitation, — she  suddenly  remembered  the  French  pastor 
and  his  solemn  words:  "God  has  given  you  a  great 
gift — the  gift  of  beauty.  Take  care  that  you  do  not 
make  of  it  a  curse." 

Perhaps  Mr.  Wood — different  as  he  was — was  going 
to  say  the  same. 

"Only  too  glad,"  repeated  the  Vicar,  his  eyes  grow- 
ing cautious,  "to  let  you  teach  them  in  your  own  way. 
We  want  no  fire  and  brimstone,  you  understand?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  she  smiled,  reflecting  that  perhaps  the 
bribe  was  still  forthcoming.  "You  don't  want  me  to 
pray  like  this:  'Dear  Lord,  we  are  miserable  sinners, 
I  beseech  you  do  not  let  us  fry  in  the  grease  of  our 
Bins!'  We  were  taken  to  a  meeting  where  anyone 
could  pray  who  felt  so  moved,  and  that's  what  an  old 
peasant  said!" 

"No,"  he  laughed,  "you  needn't  do  that!  A  little 
story,  a  hymn,  a  few  cheerful  words — that's  all.  I  see 
you  understand,  and  I'm  sure  you'll  manage  beauti- 
fully. You'll  like  the  other  teachers  too — perhaps  you 
know  some.  We're  a  happy  family.  Talk  it  over  with 
your  mother  and  send  me  word  before  Sunday.  Ah! 
and  here  comes  the  parting  of  our  ways — Effie,  say 
good-by." 

And  not  a  word  about  the  ball!  Not  a  word  about 
going  to  the  Vicarage!  Nothing  to  show  that  things 
were  to  be  the  same  as  ever. 

"You  11   manage   beautifully — you'll   like   the   other 


THE  LURE  OP  THE  FLAME  89 

teachers  too!"  He  took  it  for  granted  that  she  would 
consent.  Why  should  she?  Why  should  she  teach  on 
Sundays  as  well  as  on  weekdays,  when  his  daughters 
did  neither?  Why  should  he  feel  sure  that  she  was 
going  to  like  the  other  teachers,  not  one  of  whom  was 
her  social  equal?  And  yet,  now,  whose  equal  was  she 
really  ? 


CHAPTER  VII 

BUT  the  afternoon  did  not  pass  without  clouds,  al- 
though Mrs.  Broome-Taylor  and  her  mother  had 
gone  to  town,  and  Zoe  had  Fanny  to  herself. 

For  Nannie  dared  to  interfere  with  Zoe,  for  allow- 
ing Fanny  to  slide  down  the  banister  rail,  and,  losing 
her  temper — when  Zoe  told  her  to  mind  her  own  busi- 
ness— poured  out  such  a  lava  of  vituperation  and  insult 
that  the  girl  pushed  her  out  of  the  room  and  locked 
the  door  in  her  face. 

But,  although  she  scored  then,  she  knew  the  woman 
well  enough  to  feel  sure  that  she  would  have  her  revenge. 
And  guessed  what  was  coming,  when,  as  she  was  about 
to  leave  the  house,  Mrs.  Broome-Taylor  swept  angrily 
into  the  room  followed  by  her  mother  and  Nannie,  who 
had  opened  the  door  to  them  on  their  return  and  told 
her  story.  They  could  not  even  stop  to  take  off  their 
things. 

There  was  a  terrible  scene,  in  which  the  happenings 
of  the  morning,  the  story  of  the  meeting  in  the  Park, — 
which  Fanny  had  blurted  out  whilst  being  tidied  for 
tea, — and  Zoe's  complete  unworthiness  were  jumbled 
together  and  shaken  in  her  face,  until  at  last  she  rushed 
from  the  room  and  out  of  the  house,  carrying  with 
her  a  fleeting  vision  of  the  three  women's  angry  faces, — 
and  Fanny's  pale  with  excitement, — as  she  flew  down 
the  path  and  out  into  the  road. 

She  had  run  some  distance  before  she  realized  that 
they  were  not  behind  her — that  probably  they  were  as 
glad  to  see  her  go  as  she  to  leave  them.  Then  she  re- 
membered her  mother,  and  her  misery  increased  a  thou- 

90 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME  91 

sandfold.  But  surely,  she  would  understand  now  how 
horrid  everybody  was  and  agree  that  she  really  was  un- 
suited  for  teaching.  Oh,  she  must! — She  must  let  her 
get  out  of  this  and  away  from  a  place  where  nobody 
wanted  her,  nobody  cared  for  her. 

She  felt  so  wretched  that  although  she  glanced  at 
the  faces  of  those  she  met,  to  see  if  they  were  going 
to  acknowledge  her  and  how,  she  quite  forgot  to  look  for 
admiration,  forgot  to  give  the  glad  eye  to  the  sta- 
tioner's handsome  assistant,  who  was  always  at  the  shop 
door  when  she  passed ;  forgot  to  glance  at  her  reflection 
in  the  windows.  She  only  wanted  to  get  away  out  of 
it  all. 

For  a  moment  she  hesitated  about  going  home.  But 
she  had  no  money  in  her  pocket  and  could  not  leave 
her  mother  without  a  word,  for  the  Broome-Taylors  to 
have  it  their  own  way.  She  must  tell  how  they  had 
driven  her  away  by  what  they  said — they,  and  the  hate- 
ful Vicar  who  did  not  think  her  good  enough  to  go 
to  Miriam's  ball,  though  he  had  no  such  hesitancy  in 
thinking  his  Sunday-school  teachers  good  enough  for 
her. 

She  let  herself  in  with  her  latchkey  and  bounced  into 
the  sitting-room.  It  looked  more  desolate  than  usual, 
because  the  loving  welcome  she  expected  was  not  forth- 
coming. Her  mother  was  out.  She  remembered  it  was 
the  day  for  a  late  lesson,  and  turned  to  her  own  room 
with  tears  in  her  eyes. 

Everything  was  against  her,  as  well  as  everyone. 
Her  head  ached.  It  was  barely  five.  How  could  she 
wait  when  something  had  to  be  done  at  once  to  show 
the  Broome-Taylors  that  they  need  never  expect  to  see 
her  again,  to  tell  her  mother  that  Dunsworth  and 
teaching  were  not  for  her? 

The  evil  within  her  awoke.  It  is  possible  it  had 
been  more  active  than  usual  to-day.  At  any  rate,  it 


92  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

found  a  clear  field  now,  as  it  whispered  that  there  had 
always  been  a  lack  of  sympathy  in  her  mother.  She 
had  frowned  upon  Madame  Lefont — and  avoided  her 
ever  since — when  she  said  that  it  was  "weecked  to  have 
to  teach  with  such  a  preety  face."  She  had  paid  very 
little  attention  to  complaints  about  Fanny  or  Mrs. 
Broome-Taylor,  or  Nannie's  insolence  and  familiarity. 
She  would  most  probably  be  just  as  indifferent  now. 
It  would  be  better,  far  better,  to  show  her  that  things 
could  never  be  the  same,  by  going  away  at  once.  It 
had  to  come — this  parting, — therefore,  let  it  come  now. 

She  counted  the  money  in  her  purse.  There  was 
enough  to  keep  her  for  a  week  or  so,  until  she  had  found 
work.  Madame  Dardino  would  help  her  if  put  to  the 
push.  Mr.  Raynor  had  said  so,  and  he — well,  so  would 
he! 

She  need  not  mind  leaving  home.  Her  mother  would 
only  have  to  keep  herself,  and  would  thus  be  better 
off.  Some  day,  soon,  there  would  be  the  joy  of  send- 
ing money  to  her,  of  receiving  her  in  far  grander  sur- 
roundings than  these. 

She  glanced  around  contemptuously  as  she  packed  a 
small  bag.  At  the  mirror  which  had  reflected  her  danc- 
ing so  valiantly;  at  the  small  bed,  where  she  had 
dreamed  so  often  of  Roy  Keith  coming  to  save  her;  at 
the  chintz  patterned  walls  and  cheap  brown  furniture. 
She  felt  no  sorrow  at  leaving  them,  only  disgust 
for  their  shabbiness,  little  knowing  how  desirable  they 
would  appear  some  day. 

But  the  thought  of  Roy  Keith  had  recalled  something 
else.  Hales 's  strong,  kind  face,  his  stirring  words: 

"Change  your  mind  and  face  the  music  like  the 
brave  girl  you  are!" 

"Never!"  she  had  cried.    "Never!"  she  echoed  now. 

Facing  the  music  had  led  to  trouble  then.  Facing 
it  now  would  mean  resuming  life  with  Fanny  and  the 


THE  LURE  OP  THE  FLAME  93 

lesson  books.  Freedom  had  offered  itself  suddenly,  un- 
expectedly, violently  perhaps,  but  it  had  come  and  she 
was  not  going  back  to  bondage. 

A  hush  lay  about  the  little  house,  in  the  dusk-filled 
passage  and  down  the  narrow  stairway.  The  landlady 
peeped  out  of  the  kitchen  and  nodded,  her  eyes  drop- 
ping inquiringly  to  Zoe's  bag  as  she  exclaimed: 

"You're  back  early  to-day,  Miss." 

"Yes.  I  came  to  fetch  something.  I'm  going  back 
now. ' ' 

She  uttered  the  lie  without  a  qualm.  It  was  a  nec- 
essary one.  Quite  good  and  proper  people  told  neces- 
sary lies  if  they  suited  their  purpose  better  than  the 
plain,  unvarnished  truth.  She  had  discovered  that  long 
ago,  and  had  learnt  to  do  likewise.  It  saved  a  lot  of 
trouble  and  annoyance. 

She  hurried  quickly  along  the  road  into  the  main 
thoroughfare  and  hailed  the  London  'bus.  It  would 
take  longer  than  the  train,  but  there  was  less  risk  of 
being  met  by  someone  who  might  guess  what  you  con- 
templated doing — by  your  mother  who  was  coming  home 
that  way. 

She  scrambled  on  to  the  top  and  made  for  a  front 
seat.  She  had  been  there  some  time  when  she  discov- 
ered that  the  man  she  had  seen  in  the  Park  was  on  the 
other  side.  He  bowed  and  smiled  across  to  his  fellow- 
traveler.  And  presently  when  the  seat  beside  her  be- 
came vacant,  he  moved  over  to  it,  exclaiming  in  a  low 
voice : 

"This  is  a  bit  of  luck!" 

"Why?"  asked  Zoe,  hoping  he  would  not  see  how  red 
her  eyes  were. 

"Because  I  didn't  expect  to  meet  you  now — though 
I  knew  I  should  to-morrow." 

She  sat  silent,  her  eyes  on  the  street,  a  little  feel- 
ing of  pleasure  creeping  up  in  her  heart.  She  won- 


94  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

dered  what  he  would  say  if  he  knew  that  she  would 
not  be  there  to-morrow,  that  she  never  meant  to  see 
the  Park  again,  although  she  loved  it  so. 

"Going  to  town?"  he  asked,  looking  at  her  bag. 

"Yes.    Are  you?" 

"That's  so.  Dunsworth  is  too  dull  at  nights,  isn't 
it?" 

"I  think  it's  deadly  dull  at  any  time!"  she  exclaimed 
vehemently.  ' 1 1— I  hate  it ! " 

"Oh,  come  now — it  isn't  so  bad.  I've  known  worse 
places.  You  didn't  look  dull  when  I  saw  you  this 
morning. ' ' 

"I  was — I  always  am.    But — but — " 

She  hesitated,  debating  in  her  mind  as  to  the  wis- 
dom of  telling  him  that  she  was  leaving  for  good. 

"I'm  off  to  a  music  hall,"  he  exclaimed.  "Guess 
where. ' ' 

"I  don't  know — there  are  so  many." 

"Well,  you  might  guess.  I'm  going  to  see  Dardino. 
You  put  her  into  my  head.  I  felt  I  must  see  her  again, 
if  only  to  be  able  to  tell  you  how  much  better  I 
think  you  are.  I  little  knew  I  was  going  to  meet  you 
now!" 

"How  can  you  say  I'm  better.  She's  a  singer — I'm 
not.  It's  as  a  singer  she  wishes  to  be  known.  The 
dancing  she  does  doesn't  count,  and — " 

"Yours  does,  though,"  he  murmured,  edging  closer 
and  looking  into  her  face.  "I  bet  it  would — if — you'd 
got  the  right  togs  on." 

Her  cheeks  flamed  as  she  thought  of  Dardino 's 
tights,  of  her  own  shrunken  garment.  If  he  had  seen 
her,  last  night! 

The  vision  of  her  little  room,  of  the  tilted  mirror, 
of  her  will-o'-the-wisp-like  shadow  on  the  ceiling,  swam 
before  her  eyes,  which  she  kept  turned  from  him. 

"If  you  were  dressed  like  Dardino,"  he  went  on, 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME  95 

close  to  her  ear,  "or  rather  if  you  undressed  as  she 
does,  I  bet  you'd  look  a  stunner!" 

She  glanced  round  timidly  to  see  if  anyone  else 
heard.  How  dared  he  say  such  things! 

This  came  of  talking  to  inferiors.  He  was  that,  de- 
spite his  well-cut  tweeds  and  good  brown  boots  and 
general  air  of  prosperity.  The  mere  fact  of  his  going 
to  town  in  such  a  get-up  at  this  time  of  day  proved 
it,  let  alone  the  touch  of  vulgarity  in  tone  and  look 
and  conversation.  And  yet — what  harm  had  he  done? 
He  admired  her  and  said  so.  He  merely  looked  upon 
her  as  a  lovely  statue,  a  beautiful  picture.  She  won- 
dered what  he  would  say  if  he  saw  how  white  her  skin 
was,  how  shapely  her  limbs,  hew  seductive  the  soft 
curves  of  her  body.  Could  that  be  what  he  meant  by 
saying  she  would  look  a  stunner? 

"I  was  thinking  that,  this  morning,"  he  went  on. 
"Just  as  I  was  thinking  you  were  wasted  on  the  Sober 
Kid.  What's  become  of  her,  by  the  way?" 

"I  don't  stay  with  her  at  night,  thank  goodness! 
I  finish  with  her  after  tea." 

"And  then  you  go  home?" 

"Yes— I  go  home." 

"And  you  are  free  for  the  whole  evening?" 

"Yes — "  she  nodded,  wondering  if  she  should  tell 
him  that  she  was  free  forever — so  far  as  the  Sober  Kid, 
as  he  called  her,  was  concerned.  But  before  she  could 
make  up  her  mind,  he  exclaimed: 

"Then,  by  Jove!  why  shouldn't  we  see  Dardino  to- 
gether— or  anyone  else  you  prefer?  We  can  get  some- 
thing to  eat  first  at  one  of  those  jolly  little  restaurants 
in  Soho." 

"Oh,  no— I  couldn't." 

"Why  not?  It's  quite  proper,  and  who's  to  know? 
I'll  see  you  home  afterwards,  if  you  like.  I'm  going 
back  to-night." 


96 

"It  isn't  that.    I  have  to  go  somewhere  else." 

"A  rendezvous  with  a  nice  'boy,'  eh?  I  guessed  that. 
It's  just  my  luck!" 

"Why  do  you  say  that?"  asked  Zoe,  vexed  that  he 
should  imagine  she  went  out  to  meet  a  "boy,"  yet  flat- 
tered by  his  tone  and  look. 

"Because  you're  not  the  sort  to  go  begging.  You're 
too  pretty,  you  know." 

"I  don't  know.  You  shouldn't  say  such  things  to  a 
girl  you  know  nothing  about." 

"I  don't." 

"You  don't  know  anything  about  me!"  she  ex- 
claimed, tossing  her  head. 

"Don't  I!  You're  Miss  Zoe  Dereham,  the  pretty 
daughter  of  a  clever  mother.  You  have  just  left  your 
school  in  France  and  you  teach  the  Sober  Kid. 
Further,  you  are  running  away  from  home." 

"Oh!"  ejaculated  Zoe,  glancing  at  him  under  her 
lashes.  "How  clever  you  are!" 

"It's  true,  isn't  it?" 

"I  sha'n't  tell  you.  And  it's  horribly  mean  of  you 
to  ferret  out  my  affairs  and  not  say  a  word  about  your- 
self." 

"You  haven't  asked  me,  or  I'd  be  ready  to  tell  you. 
My  name's  Bert  Lin  don.  I'm  staying  with  my  aunt  at 
East  Park.  I've  come  up  for  a  few  days'  holiday  from 
Bognor,  where  I  have  a  farm.  And  you  and  the  Sober 
Kid  are  so  well  known  that  one  chance  inquiry — which 
is  excusable,  considering  how  you  fascinated  me — was 
sufficient  for  me  to  obtain  the  information  I  have  just 
given  you.  I  also  heard  that  you  are  the  thirteenth 
governess  the  Sober  Kid  has  had,  and  as  thirteen  is 
an  unlucky  number  and  you  had  plainly  said  you  hate 
teaching  and  you  appear  with  a  suspicious-looking  bag, 
enroute  for  London,  at  this  time  of  day,  you  can't  ex- 
pect me  to  think  anything  but — " 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME  97 

"I  don't  care  what  you  think!"  said  Zoe  stiffly,  get- 
ting up.  "I'm  getting  down  here." 

"So  am  I." 

She  moved  quickly  to  the  stairs,  determined  to  have 
done  with  him.  A  farmer!  Hardly  the  sort  of  per- 
son one  cared  to  be  seen  with  in  London.  And  yet  he 
had  nice  eyes,  and  thought  a  lot  of  her  for  all  he  was 
so  conceited  that  he  did  not  appear  to  realize  there  was 
a  difference  of  class  between  them.  Though  to  be  sure 
she  had  hardly  shown  that  she  realized  it  herself. 

She  was  waiting  at  the  corner  of  Bond  Street  when 
she  felt  his  hand  on  her  arm. 

"Look  here,"  he  said  pleadingly.  "Don't  be  angry. 
I  really  want  to  help  you.  Is  it  another  'bus  you 
want?" 

"No,  I  have  to  cross." 

"Is  that  all?"  His  strong  arm  was  under  hers  and, 
before  she  realized  it,  she  was  on  the  opposite  pave- 
ment, and  he  was  asking  which  way  she  meant  to  go, 
and  if  he  might  walk  with  her. 

"You  see,  it's  getting  late  for  young  ladies  to  be  out 
alone,"  he  commented.  "And  besides — I  see  you're 
worried.  Won't  you  tell  me  what's  the  matter,  and 
where  you  mean  to  go?" 

The  temptation  to  tell  was  irresistible.  Zoe  was  a 
communicative  person  and  could  rarely  keep  anything 
to  herself.  Just  as  she  needed  love  and  affection,  so 
she  needed  sympathy  and  someone  to  confide  in. 
Therefore,  in  a  few  minutes,  her  story  was  out,  and 
Bert  Lindon  knew  why  she  had  run  away,  why  she 
hated  Dunsworth,  why  she  was  in  town. 

He  listened  with  interest,  his  cherubic  face  grave. 
Probably  he  saw  she  was  suffering  and  knew  how  hope- 
less was  the  fight  she  had  to  face.  Whether  he  thought 
her  equal  to  it — knew  her  as  ignorant  of  evil  as  she 
was — was  himself  as  innocent  of  leading  her  into  temp- 


98  THE  LUKE  OF  THE  FLAME 

tation  as  he  looked — he  showed  no  sign,  but  walked  in 
silence  for  a  few  steps  before  he  exclaimed: 

"And  do  you  think  Madame  Dardino  will  help 
you?" 

"I  can't  say!    I'm  going  to  see." 

She  wondered  why  he  looked  so  thoughtful  as  he 
asked  what  she  was  going  to  do  if  Dardino  did  not 
keep  her  for  the  night. 

"I  can  get  a  room,  somewhere,"  she  faltered,  brought 
suddenly  face  to  face  with  the  immensity  of  her  daring. 

"Why  not  change  your  mind  and  go  home.  Your 
mother  must  see  that  the  Sober  Kid  is  no  more  for  you, 
and— 

"No.  I  shall  not  go  back.  Don 't  you  see  how  impos- 
sible it  is?  I  wanted  to  leave  long  ago,  and  this  is 
my  chance.  I  should  be  a  fool  not  to  take  it.  If 
Madame  Dardino  won't  help  me,  well  someone  else  will 
— and — and — " 

"Go  to  50a  Beamont  Street.  I  know  the  woman 
there.  A  friend  of  mine  lodged  with  her.  I'll  wait 
outside  Dardino 's  and  take  you  to  her — if  you  don't 
stay.  I've  heaps  of  time,  you  see.  Hours  before  the 
theaters  start.  And  then  we  could  spend  the  evening 
together  as  I  said — and — " 

"Thank  you.    But—" 

"And  I  know  one  or  two  people  on  the  stage.  A 
fellow  who  went  from  Rickmansworth,  where  I  lived 
once — and — " 

"Here's  the  house,"  interrupted  Zoe,  stopping  sud- 
denly. 

"I'll  wait.  If  you  don't  come  out  in  a  few  min- 
utes, I  shall  know  you're  all  right.  But  if  she  won't 
do  anything  for  you,  promise  you'll  let  me  help." 

She  looked  at  him  reflectively,  recalling  her  mother's 
words  about  speaking  to  strangers  and  accepting  their 
help.  But  that  had  been  about  casual  meetings — with 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME  99 

no  hint  of  such  an  unusual  predicament  as  this.  Be- 
sides, what  harm  could  he  do  to  her.  He  looked  very 
kind  and  certainly  very  sorry.  Such  a  friend  was  bet- 
ter than  none. 

"Very  well,  I  will,"  she  murmured,  as  she  ran  lightly 
up  the  steps  and  rang  the  bell. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

MADAME  DARDINO,  who  liked  the  locality  be- 
cause it  was  central,  and — she  laughingly  ex- 
plained— so  eminently  respectable,  had  taken  a  house 
in  Queen  Anne  Street.  It  belonged  to  a  specialist  who 
had  moved  his  young  family  into  the  country,  and  re- 
quired only  a  couple  of  rooms  on  the  ground  floor. 

The  others,  though  paneled  and  exquisitely  furnished 
in  antiques,  looked,  under  Dardino 's  regime,  like  an 
outraged  courtier  forced  against  his  will  to  masquerade 
as  clown.  For  over  the  dignity  of  the  old-world  rooms 
trailed  the  garish  draperies,  the  beribboned  chocolate 
boxes,  the  miscellaneous  rubbish,  so  loved  by  women  of 
the  singer's  type. 

On  this  particular  evening  Dardino,  who  had  come 
straight  home  after  her  "turn,"  was  receiving — so 
sounds  of  many  voices  and  much  laughter  were  wafted 
down  to  Zoe  as  she  stood  on  the  threshold,  the  dusk- 
filled  street  behind  her,  some  measure  of  her  trouble 
in  her  face. 

She  seemed  to  be  expected  by  the  way  in  which  the 
pert-looking  maid  took  her  bag  and  umbrella,  and  led 
her  upstairs. 

"What  name,  please?"  she  asked,  as  they  stopped 
before  a  closed  door  behind  which  some  man  was  sing- 
ing. 

Zoe  was  seized  with  sudden  shyness  and  tried  to  say 
that  she  wanted  to  see  Madame  Dardino  alone,  but,  the 
song  having  ended  in  a  round  of  applause,  the  door 
swung  open  and  she  was  announced. 

100 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      101 

Madame  Dardino,  who  was  standing  near  it,  turned 
with  a  brilliant  smile  and  took  her  hand,  exclaiming : 

"Ah!     So  here  you  are!     How  did  you  come?" 

"By  'bus — "  said  Zoe,  and  it  flashed  into  her  mind 
that  she  had  been  invited.  But  when?  Anyhow,  she 
was  glad  Madame  Dardino  thought  so,  for  it  explained 
her  presence  for  the  moment. 

An  amused  laugh  from  Dardino,  and  the  group  round 
her,  greeted  the  words. 

"What  a  quaint  little  girl  she  is!"  said  the  singer. 
"I  mean,  how  did  you  get  round  Mama?" 

"I — I — don't  understand,"  murmured  Zoe,  her  color 
rising  at  the  sneer  in  Dardino 's  tone,  the  covert  smile 
on  the  others'  faces. 

"It's  simple  enough.  I  invited  you  to  come  to-day. 
Your  mother  answered  the  letter,  saying  you  had  an 
important  engagement. ' ' 

Zoe  stood  dumfounded,  her  heart  filling  with  resent- 
ment against  her  mother  who  had  dared  to  open  her 
letter  and  say  nothing  about  it.  It  was  too  bad  of  her. 
But  she  could  not  say  so  to  Dardino,  who  would  think 
her  a  meek  fool  for  allowing  it.  Therefore,  she  re- 
plied quickly: 

"And  so  I  had.  But  I  got  off  unexpectedly.  You 
see,  I  teach  until  teatime,  as  a  rule." 

"But  Dardino  was  not  listening.  She  was  not  a  bit 
interested  in  anyone  but  herself.  Her  manner  had 
shown  that  she  guessed  Mrs.  Dereham  disapproved  of 
her  and  that  she  didn't  care  one  jot.  Moreover,  the 
tenor,  who  had  been  singing,  had  started  an  encore, 
so  she  pointed  out  a  vacant  seat  to  the  girl,  and  sat 
down  herself. 

The  singer  was  an  insignificant  looking  little  man 
with  great  faith  in  his  own  voice  and  the  firm  conviction 
that  it  was  shared  by  the  audience.  Zoe,  however,  was 
more  interested  in  examining  the  motley  crowd  and 


102      THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

wondering  how  many  were  as  poor  and  lonely  as  her- 
self. She  had  never  seen  so  many  queer  people  at 
once,  and  glanced  from  one  to  the  other  with  puzzled 
eyes;  from  the  tenor  to  a  weird-looking  woman  who 
was  hanging  on  his  words. 

She  looked  thin  and  snake-like  in  a  dull  black  gown 
which  fitted  as  tightly  as  a  skin.  Her  black  toque, 
crushed  well  over  her  face,  seemed  no  blacker  than  the 
hair  it  hid.  A  short  veil,  resembling  a  mask,  reached 
to  the  pert  tip  of  her  nose.  Through  it  you  caught  the 
gleam  of  somber  eyes;  beneath  it,  the  lure  of  crimson 
lips.  And  as  she  listened,  as  though  each  word  were 
breath  to  her,  she  smoked  and  smoked  and  smoked. 

Zoe  heard  later  that  she  was  a  famous  snake-charmer 
and  no  longer  wondered  at  her  weird  appearance  and 
her  power  to  fascinate.  For  she  could  hardly  take  her 
eyes  off  her,  although  a  far  more  beautiful  woman  sat 
close  by,  with  a  smile  upon  her  lips  and  a  dancing  mis- 
chief in  her  face. 

She  recognized  many  faces  familiar  to  her,  through 
picture  postcards  and  posters.  Harold  Hailey,  the 
King  of  Pierrots,  with  his  leading  lady,  Vesta  Royce; 
Merry  Minnie  Mayne,  whose  well-known  smile  beamed 
now  on  all  around;  Dicky  Dare,  the  dancer;  Ruditsky, 
his  Russian  rival;  Georgie  Gaines,  the  inimitable  low 
comedian,  and  Joey  Rowe,  the  great  conductor  of  the 
Alcazar  Orchestra. 

They  interested  her  tremendously.  She  thought  it 
splendid  of  them  to  listen  so  silently  and  good-naturedly 
to  the  poor  piping  of  the  self-satisfied  tenor  who,  she 
was  told,  by  a  dainty  blonde  sitting  beside  her,  was 
quite  unknown  and  likely  to  remain  so. 

"I  can  believe  that,"  said  Zoe.  "But  why  did  they 
encore  him?" 

"Because  they're  a  kind-hearted  lot  and  know  that 
he  loves  hearing  his  own  voice." 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      103 

"Are  professionals  always  so  kind  to  one  another?" 

"Well — not  always!  You  see,  there's  no  fear  of  his 
being  able  to  share  the  throne  of  any  one  of  these  men 
— nor  of  usurping  it.  And  the  lion  could  afford  to  be 
kind  to  the  mouse,  you  know." 

"Yes,"  said  Zoe,  wondering  how  they  would  treat 
her  if  they  knew  how  she  longed  to  join  their  ranks. 
She  did  not  quite  like  to  say  that  to  this  stranger,  whose 
face  was  familiar,  but  whose  name  eluded  her.  But,  as 
if  in  answer  to  her  thought,  Dardino  leaned  towards 
them,  exclaiming: 

"Why  do  you  look  so  solemn,  Zoe?  Are  you  tell- 
ing Miss  Gay  what  you  long  to  be  ?  No  ? —  This  foolish 
little  girl  wants  to  be  an  actress,  Lottie!" 

"What!  Not  really?  Another  fly  round  the  honey 
pot!"  laughed  Lottie — whom  Zoe  now  realized,  with  a 
thrill  of  pleasure,  was  Lottie  Gay,  the  star  of  stars  in 
musical  comedy,  though  she  did  not  know  that  her  rise 
in  the  theatrical  firmament  was  certainly  not  due  to  her 
talents. 

"Yes,"  smiled  Zoe,  "I  love  honey!" 

"H'm.  It's  only  a  few  that  get  the  honey,  my 
dear!" 

"So  I've  told  her,"  interposed  Dardino.  "But  she's 
just  as  silly  as  little  flies  always  are.  She  wants  to  walk 
into  the  spider's  parlor,  although  she  must  know  what 
that  will  mean." 

"What  will  it  mean?"  asked  the  girl,  whilst  the  two 
women  smiled  ambiguously  at  each  other.  "It  can't 
be  worse  than  being  a  governess,  anyhow.  And  you 
look  nicer  than  governesses — and  happier — and — " 

"I  should  jolly  well  think  so!"  exclaimed  Lottie. 
"We've  no  use  for  governesses  here — nor  chaperones; 
have  we,  Billy?" 

She  laughed  loudly.  Zoe  crimsoned  awkwardly. 
What  did  she  really  mean?  They  were  just  as  mys- 


104  THE  LURE  OP  THE  FLAME 

terious,  these  people,  as  everyone  else;  just  as  reluctant 
to  explain  things. 

Billy,  a  tall  man  with  a  stoop,  and  an  eye-glass,  and 
a  oh-deah-what-a-bore-it-is  expression,  laughed  too  and 
whispered  in  Lottie's  ear,  glancing  at  Zoe  the  while. 
She  felt  furious.  Why  was  he  laughing  at  her?  Why 
did  the  others  stare?  She  was  not  a  baby  nor  a  fool. 
It  was  too  bad  of  Dardino  and  Lottie  to  show  her  up 
like  this,  but — she  would  let  them  see  she  did  not  care. 

So  she  threw  back  her  head  and  met  the  eyes  focused 
upon  her  with  a  smile,  exclaiming: 

"Well,  of  course,  I  didn't  suppose  you  wanted  a 
chaperone,  Miss  Gay — " 

Her  words  were  drowned  in  a  roar  of  laughter. 
Others  who  had  started  talking,  since  the  singing 
had  ceased,  paused  to  ask  what  the  fun  was,  and  Zoe 
heard  her  words  repeated  and  received  with  mirth. 
For  the  life  of  her  she  could  not  understand  why  they 
were  so  amused,  nor  why  Lottie  was  suddenly  tarns- 
formed  into  a  vicious  fury  by  the  remark:  "She  had 
you  there,  Lottie!" 

"Who  is  she?"  asked  Billy  loudly. 

"A  damned  amateur!"  muttered  Lottie. 

"More  like  an  old  hand,"  he  smiled,  looking  at  Zoe. 
"Unless  it's  a  case  of  out  of  the  mouths  of  babes  and 
sucklings.  Which  are  you,  my  dear,"  he  added,  "an 
amateur  or  an  old  hand?" 

"Of  course  I'm  an  amateur,"  responded  Zoe,  flat- 
tered by  the  endearment;  "I've  never  been  on  the 
stage." 

Fresh  amusement  greeted  her  remark,  making  her 
wonder  if  she  had  said  anything  stupid.  For  amateur 
she  learned  later  had  more  than  one  meaning  in  that 
community. 

"Never  mind  them,"  exclaimed  Billy.  "They  al- 
ways behave  like  lunatics  at  the  Zoo,  when  they  see,  or 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      105 

Hear,  anything  fresh  and  young.  That's  the  worst  of 
stage  life.  It  makes  the  bud  expand  like  a  foolish  tulip 
in  an  overheated  room,  and  leaves  nothing  to  the  imagi- 
nation. It's  just  as  well  you're  not  on  it." 

"All  the  same  I  want  to  be  an  actress,"  said  Zoe. 

"What  kind?" 

"Shakespearean,  of  course,"  laughed  a  voice  behind. 
"They  all  want  that  at  first,  and  are  glad  enough  to 
drop  into  farce  or  the  chorus  or — " 

"I  don't!"  exclaimed  Zoe.  "I  want  to  be  like — 
like—" 

Her  heart  sank  as  she  met  Dardino's  eyes  and  the 
words  died  on  her  lips.  She  looked  round  anxiously 
for  some  sign  of  friendship  on  the  faces  turned  to  hers. 
But,  excepting  Billy's  and  one  or  two  in  the  back- 
ground, they  all  expressed  amusement  and  mockery. 
There  was  a  hostility  in  most  of  the  women's  eyes  which 
reminded  her  of  those  last  days  at  Sainte  Croix.  She 
remembered  that  she  had  not  put  on  her  best  clothes 
and  fancied  they  were  quizzing  her.  If  only  she  had 
remained  outside! 

"Well,"  asked  Dardino,  coldly,  "who  do  you  want 
to  belike?" 

"Need  you  ask?"  faltered  Zoe.  "If  only  I  could 
be  one-quarter  as  good  as  yourself  I  should  be  satis- 
fied." 

"That's  as  ambitious  as  Shakespeare!"  laughed  Lot- 
tie, who  seemed  to  have  recovered  her  temper,  though 
her  eyes  gleamed  maliciously  as  they  compelled  the 
girl's. 

"I  know.  But — nothing  venture  nothing  have!  " 
said  Zoe,  reflecting  that  mottoes  were  useful  sometimes, 
although  she  had  told  her  mother  she  hated  to  hear 
them  quoted. 

"That's  true  enough,"  said  Dardino,  "but  to  be  like 
me  you  would  want  more  than  one  thing  at  your  finger- 


106  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

tips.  Dancing — singing — mimicking,  and — a  something 
I  cannot  name!" 

"Natural  charm?"  asked  Billy.  "Well,  we'll  allow 
the  young  lady  has  that." 

"That's  nothing,  without  the  others,"  snapped  Dar- 
dino,  who  was  evidently  annoyed. 

"Of  course  not —    Can  you  dance,  my  dear?" 

"A  little — "  said  Zoe,  wondering  why  Dardino  was 
so  nasty  now,  and  hoping  she  would  not  mind  what  she 
said.  She  did  not  want  to  make  her  angry  when  she 
was  the  only  person  who  could  help  her.  And  yet, 
something  of  the  old  Zoe,  self-assured,  determined  to 
prove  she  was  as  good  as  anyone,  quarreled  with  the 
feeling  of  diffidence  which  was  so  new  in  her. 

"And  sing?" 

"Oh,  yes." 

"Let's  hear  you.  Madame  Dardino  won't  mind. 
We'll  tell  you  whether  you'll  make  an  actress  or 
not." 

Zoe  glanced  again  at  Dardino,  and  then,  though  she 
never  quite  knew  how  it  happened,  she  found  herself 
standing  by  the  piano.  Everybody  was  silent,  every- 
body was  looking  at  her.  Her  heart  thumped,  her  lips 
trembled,  her  lips  felt  parched.  But  she  remembered 
that  they  had  all  been  more  than  kind  to  the  poor  tenor, 
and  their  seeming  unwillingness  to  be  kind  to  her  must 
mean  that  they  believed  she  would  be  good,  and  for  some 
reason  or  other  resented  it.  Well,  let  them !  Bert  Lin- 
don  had  said:  "Dardino  to  the  life,  and  a  jolly  sight 
better!" 

She  would  show  them  she  could  do  something  and, 
because  they  were  true  artists,  each  in  his  own  way, 
they  must  give  her  her  due.  This  was  her  chance  of 
finding  herself.  She  would  be  an  idiot  to  bungle  it. 

She  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  herself  in  one  of  the 
long  mirrors,  and  was  buoyed  by  the  knowledge  that, 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      107 

although  she  had  on  her  old  navy  skirt  with  a  simple 
white  silk  blouse  made  with  a  sailor  collar  and  a  big 
black  bow,  she  looked  quite  as  nice  as  many  of  the 
women  there,  for  all  their  gaudy  silks  and  satins. 
Someone  had  told  her  to  take  off  her  hat  and  coat,  and 
the  light  shone  down  upon  her  head,  turning  her  thick 
wavy  hair  into  a  crown  of  burnished  gold.  Through 
her  long  lashes  she  read  admiration  in  the  men's  eyes 
and  knew  that  she  looked  her  best. 

So  she  lifted  up  her  voice  bravely  and  sang  to  the 
accompaniment  of  a  young  French  musician  who  said 
he  knew  the  music  of  the  songs  she  had  mentioned. 
Her  voice  floated  through  the  hushed  room — hushed, 
she  could  see,  with  wonder  not  mere  tolerance. 

Well,  she  knew  she  had  a  nice  voice.  She  had 
inherited  her  mother's.  In  spite  of  her  youth,  it  was 
mature  and  had  been  well  trained.  She  knew  quite 
well  also,  that  it  would  be  beautiful  some  day,  and 
that  the  light  song  she  sang  suited  it  now  to  perfection ; 
suited  her  also,  as  she  stood  there,  looking  bewitchingly 
pretty — a  coquette  from  head  to  foot,  as  she  sent  her 
long  glances  from  one  man  to  another. 

And  the  loud  applause  went  to  her  head  like  wine. 
She  was  glad  she  had  overcome  her  feelings  of  reluc- 
tance and  stage  fright — glad  that  the  women  had  looked 
contemptuous  enough  to  put  her  on  her  mettle.  She 
forgot  to  look  at  Dardino  and  Lottie;  forgot  how,  and 
why,  she  had  come,  remembered  only  that  these  people 
approved  of  her  at  last,  for  she  had  compelled  the 
artist  in  them  to  recognize  the  artist  in  her. 

"Encore,  encore!"  they  cried  as  with  one  voice. 

"Something  English,  this  time." 

"Let's  see  you  dance,"  said  Billy. 

"Yes,  let's—"  smiled  the  King  of  all  the  Pierrots. 

"I  know  nothing  really,"  she  faltered,  turning  to  the 
pianist  who  was  playing  softly,  his  face  turned  to  her. 


108  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

"Nothing  at  all?"  exclaimed  Merrie  Minnie  Mayne, 
"Just  try.  Anything  will  do." 

"I  haven't  learnt  properly." 

"That's  why  we  shall  like  it — when  you  know  exactly 
what  is  coming,  you  enjoy  it  less.  You're  a  mimic — a 
born  mimic,"  said  Harold  Hailey,  his  broad  face  beam- 
ing good-natured  criticism,  "Take  someone  you've  seen 
lately." 

She  hesitated,  recalling  her  dance  in  the  park.  Per- 
haps if  she  repeated  it  here,  this  kind  man  might  engage 
her  on  the  spot.  It  was  hardly  what  she  wanted — a 
pierrot  troupe — but  it  would  be  a  beginning,  and  from 
what  they  had  said  about  Shakespeare  it  was  a  mistake 
to  aim  too  high. 

Yes,  she  could  sing  that  song  of  Dardino's  which 
ended  in  her  throwing  aside  her  cloak  and  revealing 
herself  in  tights,  to  dance  as  alluringly  as  she  had 
sung. 

Should  she  try?  Risk  Dardino's  displeasure  per- 
haps? She  turned  to  her  as  she  murmured: 

"Really  I  know  nothing.  I've  only  seen  Madame 
Dardino." 

' '  Good !  She  won 't  mind — everybody  copies  her,  and 
she  rather  likes  it,  don't  you  Dardy?" 

Dardino  shrugged  and  smiled,  with  narrowed  eyes  on 
Zoe's  expectant  face. 

"Why  should  I  mind?"  she  exclaimed,  "They  say 
that  imitation  is  the  sincerest  form  of  flatterv,  don't 
they?" 

"There,  you  see  you  needn't  mind.  Besides,  accord- 
ing to  your  imitation  we  shall  be  able  to  judge  of  your 
abilities,"  coaxed  Billy.  "If  it's  good  taste — we  shall 
tell  you.  If  it's  bad — well,  it's  better  to  know  so  at 
once,  isn't  it?" 

"I  don't  mind,"  nodded  Dardino  as  she  turned  to 
smile  at  Raymond  Raynor  who  had  just  come  in.  "In 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      109 

fact  I  want  to  see  you — Raymond,  little  Zoe  is  going  to 
impersonate  me!" 

Zoe  needed  no  more  telling.  She  told  herself  that 
she  had  merely  imagined  that  Dardino  was  cross  with 
her — when  all  the  time  she  was  perhaps  thinking  about 
something  else.  School  had  made  her  suspicious  and 
ready  to  think  everyone  had  some  hidden  desire  to 
thwart  and  annoy  her.  Of  course  Dardino  was  much 
too  great  to  feel  anything  of  the  kind.  This  proved 
it;  she  had  been  a  goose  to  fancy  anything  else. 

The  pianist,  who  was  Dardino 's  accompanist,  had 
started  playing  and  a  hush  had  fallen  upon  the  room. 
She  met  Raynor's  eyes,  smiling  sympathetically  at  her 
— Billy's,  full  of  the  look  she  knew  so  well;  Hailey's 
expectantly  amused;  and  decided  to  do  her  best  for 
these  three — if  for  no  one  else. 

She  avoided  looking  at  Dardino  as  she  broke  into 
song,  tried  to  think  of  nothing  but  the  stage  at  the 
Alcazar  but  instead  she  saw  the  green  glades  of  the 
Park,  with  Fanny  standing  open-mouthed  before  her. 
And  as  she  sang  the  last  note  and  flung  away  an  imag- 
inary cloak  to  break  into  the  seductive  dance  she  only 
thought  what  a  good  thing  she  had  on  her  old-fashioned 
wide  skirt — what  a  pity,  though,  she  was  not  in  tights! 

She  stopped  breathlessly — deafened  almost  by  the 
roar  of  delight,  by  the  shouts:  "Encore!" 

"Come  on,"  muttered  the  pianist,  as  he  started  the 
opening  bars  again. 

It  was  then  that  a  little  white  faced  woman  was 
ushered  into  the  room.  She  darted  forward  with  a  low 
exclamation  of  despair.  Zoe,  drunk  with  excitement, 
heard  it  vaguely,  saw,  as  through  a  fog,  the  familiar 
face  she  knew  to  be  miles  away  and  smiled,  as  Raynor 
stepped  between  it  and  her.  For  he  at  any  rate  was 
real  enough  and  roused  nothing  but  pleasant  feelings 
in  her  heart. 


110  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

And  it  was  impossible  for  her  mother  to  have  followed 
her — just  as  it  was  impossible  for  Fanny  to  be  there. 
And  yet  she  saw  the  child  clearly,  standing,  eyes  agaze 
before  her,  and  Bert  Lindon  bursting  through  the 
bushes  to  mingle  his  applause  with  that  of  these  others — 
his  cry,  "Dardino  to  the  life,  and  a  jolly  sight  better," 
with  their  encores. 

All  the  same  there  was  a  disturbance  near  the  door. 
Dardino  was  looking  towards  her  with  a  cruel  smile 
about  her  lips.  Raynor's  voice  floated  down  to  her: 

"Let  her  finish.     She's  wonderful!" 

Merry  Minnie  Mayne  was  saying:  ""Where's  the 
harm?  It's  in  her.  I'd  love  to  teach  her  myself!" 

And  then  a  slight  movement  revealed  the  little  figure 
upon  a  couch,  its  sad  face  as  white  as  death,  its  eyes — 
those  eyes  she  loved — closed  to  everything  around. 

"With  a  sudden  thrill  of  fear  she  stopped.  It  was  her 
mother!  How  ill  she  looked!  Heedless  of  the  people 
closing  round,  she  sprang  towards  her.  And  then  she 
remembered  Dardino 's  letter  and  stopped  again,  her 
fear  flooded  out  by  a  sea  of  anger  which  surged  over 
her,  blinding  her  to  everything  but  her  own  wrong. 
She  had  been  cruelly  cheated.  She  could  never  forgive 
it. 


CHAPTER  IX 

BUT  Mrs.  Dereham  had  not  really  fainted.  The  sight 
of  Zoe  dancing  in  the  middle  of  the  room — and 
dancing  with  an  abandon  which  suggested  scanter  cloth- 
ing— was  startling  enough,  but  it  was  the  relief  at 
finding  her  child  which  made  her  nearly  collapse.  For 
she  had  lived  through  a  period  of  such  unutterable  sus- 
pense that  she  could  never  recall  it  afterwards  without 
a  shudder. 

Owing  to  illness  her  lesson  was  put  off  and  she  hur- 
ried home  burning  writh  the  news  of  a  companionship 
she  had  been  offered,  for  Zoe.  It  was  to  a  girl  of 
Zoe's  own  age,  the  only  child  of  a  wealthy  widower, 
who  would  pay  well  and  treat  her  like  a  daughter. 

For  some  time  she  had  realized  that  teaching  was  not 
Zoe's  vocation,  and  that  her  craving  for  a  brighter  life 
must  be  satisfied  if  the  girl  was  to  be  happy  and  con- 
tented. But  beyond  the  occasional  visits  to  town,  which 
she  did  not  approve  of,  she  did  not  see  how  that  could 
be  done,  for  she  had  begun  to  realize  that  the  invitations 
she  hoped  for  were  not,  and  would  never  be,  forthcom- 
ing. She  had  heard  about  the  ball  and  knew  enough 
about  the  world  to  feel  sure  that  others  would  follow  the 
Woods'  example  and  ignore  the  girl  they  had  always 
invited  so  gladly  before.  She  only  hoped  that  Zoe  had 
heard  and  noticed  nothing  and  welcomed  the  thought 
of  her  leaving  home,  for  this  new  and  more  congenial 
post,  as  eagerly  as  she  had  opposed  her  doing  so  at 
first. 

And  she  got  home  soon  after  Zoe's  departure  to  hear 
that  she  had  gone  away.  There  was  no  doubt  about  it, 

ill 


112  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

for,  after  listening  to  what  her  landlady  had  to  say, 
she  went  to  the  girl's  room.  The  disordered  drawers, 
the  missing  clothes,  told  their  tale,  which  she  had  hardly 
realized  when  Mrs.  Broome-Taylor  arrived,  full  of  hers, 
though  still  anxious  to  hold  out  the  olive  branch. 

But  to  that  good  lady's  surprise,  Mrs.  Dereham  had 
the  ingratitude  to  ignore  her  generosity  in  offering  to 
let  bygones  be  bygones,  and  flouted  her  right  valiantly. 

For  although  she  felt  vexed  with  Zoe  and  had  no 
intention  of  applauding  her,  Mrs.  Dereham  gave  rein  to 
her  maternal  feelings.  For  once — though  who  knows, 
she  may  have  done  so  always — she  saw  things  with 
Zoe's  eyes  and  said  so  candidly,  telling  of  her  daily 
complaints  about  Fanny's  naughtiness,  Nannie's  inter- 
ference and  the  galling  espionage.  She  did  not  pause 
to  think  that  she  was  making  an  enemy  of  one  of  the 
most  vindictive  women  in  Dunsworth.  It  is  doubtful 
if  it  would  have  made  any  difference  if  she  had. 

Having  at  last  got  rid  of  her,  without  speaking  about 
Zoe's  flight,  she  made  up  her  mind  what  to  do.  Al- 
though Zoe  had  known  nothing  about  Bardino's  letter, 
she  had  probably  gone  to  her.  She  knew  no  one  else  in 
London,  and  the  landlady,  peeping  through  her  cur- 
tains, had  seen  her  go  to  the  top  of  the  road  and  board 
a  'bus  going  townwards. 

She  started  off  without  her  tea,  feeling  every  min- 
ute 's  delay  fatal,  as  she  recalled  Zoe 's  beauty  and  too 
evident  love  of  admiration.  Supposing  she  had  never 
got  to  Madame  Dardino's.  That  she  had  been  waylaid 
by  a  stranger;  listened  to  some  story  told  her  by  a 
hospital  nurse;  or  gone  readily  enough  "on  the  spree" 
with  a  good  looking  man. 

The  horrible  details  of  the  White  Slave  traffic,  the 
harassing  stories  of  kidnapping  and  trickery,  haunted 
her  every  thought.  She  magnified  every  danger  and 
exaggerated  every  possibility.  And  over  and  above  her 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      113 

distress  rang  the  wish  that  she  had  warned  Zoe  more — 
made  her  understand  what  a  terrible  fate  awaited  the 
girl  who  too  readily  makes  friends.  For  she  realized 
with  horror  that  Zoe's  beauty  was  the  kind  to  attract 
the  man  or  woman  out  for  prey — that  her  very  manner 
invited  the  attempt. 

She  never  quite  knew  how  she  got  through  the  jour- 
ney, arriving  almost  breathless  at  Madame  Dardino's 
and  half  afraid  to  ask  for  Zoe — who  might  not 
be  there. 

But  she  was!  In  the  lion's  den,  perhaps,  but  safe 
enough  for  the  moment. 

Her  joy  mingled  with  horror  as  she  saw  her  dancing, 
and  she  was  very  annoyed  with  Raynor  for  stopping 
her.  But  the  next  instant  she  was  glad  of  the  support 
of  his  arm  as  the  room  swam  round,  and  she  sank  upon 
the  couch. 

Then  she  heard  the  music  stop  abruptly  and  opened 
her  eyes  to  see  a  clearance  before  her  and  Zoe  standing 
some  distance  off,  her  eyes  flaming,  a  frown  upon  her 
flushed  face.  Why  did  she  look  so  angry?  Why — 
She  remembered  with  sudden  sympathy  how  the  young 
hate  ridicule,  and  started  up  exclaiming  to  Dardino: 

"I'm  so  sorry  to  behave  so  stupidly.  But  I  hurried 
too  much,  for  I  was  not  sure  whether  I  should  find  Zoe 
here,  and  we  have  an  important  engagement  to  keep 
at  once." 

She  glanced  at  Zoe  as  she  spoke,  and  saw  the  angry 
look  melt  into  one  of  puzzled  inquiry. 

"We  have  to  go  to  a  house  in  Kensington,"  she  went 
on,  rejoiced  that  she  could  say  it,  for  she  felt  that  Zoe 
was  very  angry  and  feared  she  might  refuse  to  leave, 
if  her  curiosity  were  not  too  much  for  her. 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,  Mrs.  Dereham!"  exclaimed 
Dardino.  "You  seemed  so  upset  I  was  afraid  it  was 


114  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

something  worse  than  this  naughty  Zoe  coming  here 
against  your  wish — " 

"I  didn't,"  burst  in  Zoe.     "I  came  because — " 

"I  told  you  we  had  an  engagement  when  I  wrote," 
interposed  Mrs.  Dereham  quickly,  anxious  to  spare  her 
child,  for  she  saw  that  if  she  blurted  out  things  as 
they  were  Madame  Dardino  would  merely  laugh  at  her. 
For  her  eyes  told  plainly  enough  that  she  would  have 
no  scruple  in  hurting  the  girl's  feelings. 

"Well,  you  needn't  mind  about  taking  Zoe  away/* 
exclaimed  Dardino.  "She's  been  here  quite  a  long 
time,  haven't  you,  dear?" 

She  smiled  pleasantly  enough  at  Zoe,  who  crimsoned 
painfully.  For  there  was  no  denying  that  the  words 
meant  to  imply  that  she  had  been  there  too  long.  Dar- 
dino had  thus  taken  the  wind  out  of  her  sails.  For 
how  could  she  ask  for  help  when  she  was  no  longer 
wanted  ? 

So  she  nodded  a  general  good-by  and  turned  to  Dar- 
dino: "Thank  you  so  much  for  letting  me  stay.  I 
had  forgotten  all  about  our  engagement,  so  it's  a  good 
thing  mother  came,  isn't  it?" 

Dardino  looked  puzzled.  Judging  by  her  expression, 
she  would  have  liked  to  say  something  nasty,  but  there 
was  a  certain  dignity  about  Mrs.  Dereham  which  com- 
pelled restraint. 

"I'm  glad  you  came,"  she  smiled,  holding  out  her 
hand.  "And  you  danced  quite  nicely.  I  must  keep 
my  eye  on  you,  or  you'll  be  cutting  me  out  al- 
together ! ' ' 

And  then  Zoe  found  herself  on  the  landing  with  her 
mother  and  Raynor.  In  spite  of  Dardino 's  parting 
words,  she  knew  that  she  had  been  given  her  conge. 
And,  although  she  had  never  meant  to  go  with  her 
mother,  here  she  was  following  her  as  meekly  as  a  lamb 
to  the  slaughter. 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      115 

"Please  don't  trouble  to  come  down,"  said  Mrs.  Dere- 
ham,  turning  to  Raynor. 

"Oh,  I'll  see  you  off — of  course.  Sorry  you  have  to 
go.  And  you  must  come  again  soon,  Miss  Zoe,  and  sing 
another  song.  Promise." 

"I  don't  know,"  she  faltered. 

"Why?" 

"Madame  Dardino  didn't  tell  me  to." 

"Oh,  didn't  she?  But  she  meant  it.  You  mustn't 
mind  what  La  Dardino  says,  sometimes.  She  has  a  lot 
to  think  about  now — and  if  the  truth  were  told  she's 
probably  wishing  everyone  would  follow  your  example, 
for  it's  getting  late  and  she  has  to  be  at  the  Alcazar 
about  nine." 

He  smiled  kindly  into  her  face  and  squeezed  her 
hand  as  she  followed  her  mother  down  the  steps  into 
the  street.  Then  followed  the  distant  rumble  of  the 
crowded  thoroughfare  and  the  sound  of  their  own  foot- 
steps along  the  street.  But,  a  few  yards  from  the  house, 
Zoe  stopped,  exclaiming: 

"If  you  think  I'm  coming  back  to  Dunsworth,  I'm 
not.  I've  done  with  that  place.  Wild  horses  wouldn't 
drag  me  there.  I  hate  it — I  hate  everyone.  And  if 
I  didn't  say  so  just  now,  it's  because  I  didn't  want 
a  scene,  nor  to  give  you  away — but  of  course  I  know 
there  is  no  engagement — nothing — " 

"All  the  same  there  is — if  I  care  to  make  it,"  said 
her  mother  quietly,  taking  her  arm.  "Come,  you're 
tired  and  so  am  I.  We'll  go  and  have  a  meal  and  you 
shall  tell  me  everything." 

"You  cheated  me  about  Madame  Dardino 's  letter, 
too,"  retorted  the  girl,  twisting  her  arm  away.  "And 
you  had  no  right  to  do  that.  I  might  have  given  you 
away  about  it,  but  I  didn't." 

"That  was  sweet  of  you.  But  you  know,  dear,  that 
it  was  for  your  good." 


116  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

"No,  I  don't.  I'm  not  a  baby,  and  I  shall  never 
forget  your  cheating  me.  Anyhow,  I've  left  Duns- 
worth  for  good.  I've  done  with  the  Broome-Taylors 
who—" 

"I  know,"  said  Mrs.  Dereham  quietly,  as  they  began 
to  walk  on;  "I've  heard  everything.  I'm  sorry  it  hap- 
pened like  this,  for  you  could  have  left  quite  pleasantly 
at  the  end  of  the  week." 

"So  you  say,  but  you  wouldn't  have  let  me,"  sneered 
Zoe. 

Mrs.  Dereham  sighed.  She  saw  that  the  girl  was 
in  a  difficult  mood  and  that  it  would  require  all  her 
patience  to  cope  with  her.  She  longed  to  take  her  in 
her  arms  and  kiss  away  her  frowns,  to  tell  her  how 
she  really  sympathized,  but  she  dared  not  risk  it.  So 
she  told  her  news  instead,  explaining  that  they  could 
go  straight  to  Kensington  Gore  and  interview  Miss 
Jacob,  who  was  keeping  house  for  her  brother,  Louis 
Jacob,  the  well-known  financier. 

"I  don't  want  it,"  cried  Zoe.  "I  want  to  act. 
Those  people  said  I  should  do  well — I've  tried  teaching 
and  failed.  It's  cruel  to  make  me  go  on  with  it." 

It  seemed  impossible  to  make  her  understand  how 
different  this  would  be.  Her  mind  was  set  on  car- 
rying out  her  own  wishes.  Her  head  had  been  turned 
by  the  applause  and  praise  which  had  just  filled  her 
ears. 

"I'm  going  to  take  a  room  and  look  for  work  here," 
she  went  on.  "Some  of  those  people  will  help  me,  I'm 
sure.  Perhaps  Mr.  Hailey  will  take  me — dancing  and 
singing  and  being  jolly  is  all  he  wants — I  can  get  a 
room  in  Beaumont  Street,  where  the  woman  is  very 
nice. ' ' 

"Did  Madame  Dardino  tell  you  about  it?" 

"No — it's  someone  I  met — on  the  'bus.     He  said — " 

"Zoe!     Zoe!     What  have  I  told  you!     You  mustn't 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      117 

listen  to  people  you  meet  like  that.  Nor  go  to  the 
places  they  suggest — nor — " 

"Why  not? "-asked  Zoe. 

"Because  you  mustn't.  It  isn't  proper.  A  nice  girl 
must  be  reserved  and  quiet.  There  are  so  many  wicked 
people  in  the  world!" 

Here  was  her  opportunity  to  tell  all  she  had  been 
wishing  she  had  said. 

But  was  it  necessary  now?  The  girl's  safe  arrival 
at  Madame  Dardino's,  in  spite  of  her  meeting  with  this 
stranger  she  spoke  of,  proved  there  was  something 
about  her  that  would  guard  her  from  all  danger.  So 
why  soil  her  simplicity?  Why  add  to  her  childish  van- 
ity by  making  her  realize  that  she  might  be  considered 
desirable  enough  for  such  dangers  to  assail  her?  Why 
say  anything?  Wait — just  a  little  longer,  and  save 
your  own  discomfort  in  speaking  about  such  things. 

"Well,  I'm  sure  he  isn't  wicked!"  exclaimed  Zoe. 
"He's  staying  at  East  Park  and  has  a  farm  at  Bognor, 
and  is  quite  ordinary  and  matter  of  fact,  you  see.  And 
you  can't  really  want  me  to  come  back  and  face  all 
the  horrid  things  Mrs.  Broome-Taylor  is  sure  to  say." 

"It  is  always  wiser  to  turn  a  brave  front  to  the  ene- 
my," replied  her  mother. 

"I  won't  go.  I  hate  the  place.  I  want  to  go  on  the 
stage!"  stormed  Zoe. 

"You  wouldn't  really  like  it.  Those  people  are  not 
your  kind.  They  belong  to  a  different  class — there  is 
nothing  of  the  Bohemian  about  us." 

"I'm  not  so  sure  of  that.  Besides,  what  class  do  I 
belong  to,  now?  The  one  I  thought  mine  won't  have 
me — I'm  neither  fish,  fowl,  nor  good  red  herring.  I 
have  no  regular,  ready-made  position.  I  can  be  what 
I  like — and  I  like  to  be  an  actress  or  nothing  else." 

"I  cannot  give  my  consent  to  that — you  are  too 
young,  you  do  not  realize  what  that  life  would  be." 


118  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

"I  do.  Didn't  those  people  we  have  just  left 
look  happier  and  better  off  than  ourselves?  Oh,  do, 
do,  do  say  yes.  I'll  forget  about  the  letter,  if  you 
will." 

"Try  this  other  post  first  and  then  we'll  see,"  smiled 
Mrs.  Dereham.  "Suppose  we  go  into  that  tea-shop  and 
have  some  soup.  I'm  hungry,  for  I  rushed  off  not 
knowing  what  had  happened  to  you  and  feeling  too  anx- 
ious to  eat  first." 

"How  silly!  You  might  have  known  I  should  take 
care  of  myself  and  sent  you  word.  What  could  have 
happened?  No  one  would  want  to  steal  me  for  my 
lovely  clothes — and  you  don't  suppose  I  was  likely  to 
commit  suicide,  do  you?"  sneered  the  girl. 

"No.  But  it  isn't  surprising  that  I  should  feel  anx- 
ious and  a  little  hurt  that  my  child  had  not  waited 
to  confide  in  me,"  responded  her  mother,  as  they  en- 
tered a  tea-shop  and  made  for  a  vacant  table. 

She  looked  very  tired  and  white  and  ill.  But  her 
eyes  rested  on  Zoe's  face  with  such  tenderness  and  love 
that  the  girl  felt  a  sudden  stir  of  remorse  in  her  indig- 
nant heart.  She  realized  now  for  the  first  time  that  her 
mother  must  have  been  really  alarmed  at  her  absence; 
had  perhaps  suffered  as  much  as  herself,  in  her  own 
way.  But,  if  she  loved  her  so  much,  why  wouldn't  she 
let  her  do  what  she  wanted? 

She  asked  that  question  aloud  in  a  low,  sullen  voice 
after  glancing  around  at  the  unoccupied  tables.  For 
it  was  getting  late  and  nearly  closing  time. 

"It's  just  because  I  love  you  that  I  don't  wish  it," 
said  Mrs.  Dereham.  "You  went  to  ask  Madame  Dar- 
dino  for  help,  didn't  you?  Well,  did  she  offer  it?  No 
— nor  will  she  really.  Though  they  made  you  sing 
and  dance  and  told  you  that  you  were  wonderful  and 
would  be  successful,  did  any  of  them  offer  to  engage 
or  help  you!  No!  To  tell  the  truth,  though  you  may; 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      119 

not  like  it,  nor  believe  it — they  resented  your  presence. 
Madame  Dardino  was  glad  enough  for  you  to  go — they 
saw  that  you  were  not  one  of  them,  that — " 

"That's  because  I  was  better  than  they  thought. 
Women  are  like  that.  I  know — I  had  enough  of  it  at 
school.  They  thought  I  should  outshine  them,  as  I 
could  I'm  sure,  and  they  didn't  like  it.  But  the  men 
were  all  right.  You  should  have  seen  them!  And 
after  all  they  have  more  power  than  women,  and  I  could 
get  work  through  them." 

She  stopped  as  a  waitress  brought  the  steaming 
bovril  and  hovered  about.  It  was  impossible  to  con- 
tinue the  conversation.  But  her  mother's  words  had 
sunk  deeper  than  she  thought  and  as  she  recalled  them, 
throwing  furtive  glances  at  the  wan  and  still  beauti- 
ful face  opposite,  she  told  herself  that  they  were  true. 
Dardino  had  seemed  glad  enough  to  get  rid  of  her — 
glad  enough  to  see  her  go.  And  even  if  men  have  more 
power  than  women,  women  have  tongues.  Dardino  as 
a  friend  would  be  a  great  deal  of  use;  it  might  be  wise 
to  make  quite  sure  of  that.  She  felt  tired  and  unhappy. 
Those  people  had  let  her  go  without  a  word  of  encour- 
agement— the  only  man  who  had  troubled,  in  spite  of 
the  admiration  the  others  had  shown, — was  Raymond 
Raynor,  and  he  would  never  do  what  Dardino  did  not 
wish. 

How  good  her  mother  was !  Not  a  word  of  reproach, 
not  a  hint  of  scolding — nothing  but  tenderness  and 
love.  She  could  never  repay  her  for  what  she  had  done ; 
was  it  fair  to  behave  unkindly  now  ?  Of  course  she  had 
silly,  narrow  ideas  about  the  stage,  but — would  it  be 
so  easy  to  find  work  if  Madame  Dardino  would  not 
help? 

"It's  very  late,"  her  mother  said,  as  they  left  the 
place.  "But  we  might  find  Mr.  Jacob  in.  They  said 
any  evening.  So  I  suggest  a  taxi  there — " 


120      THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

"You  won't  force  me  to  take  it,  if  I  don't  like  them?" 
asked  Zoe. 

"No.  We've  had  enough  of  that  kind  of  thing; 
haven't  we,  dear?  I  blame  myself  for  having  per- 
suaded you  to  stay  with  the  Broome-Taylors,  although 
you  were  not  there  long.  We'll  run  no  such  risk  again. 
Here's  a  taxi — and  we'll  keep  it  to  take  us  to  the  sta- 
tion afterwards,  shall  we?" 

In  the  friendly  shelter  of  the  cab,  she  put  her  arm 
round  the  girl,  and  at  her  touch  Zoe  melted: 

"Yes — I  suppose  so,"  she  murmured.  "And — oh, 
mother,  I  do  love  you  and  I  do  want  to  be  good,  but  I 
was  so  wretched  and  they  bullied  me  and — I — I  am  a 
beast,  you  know.  But  there's  something  in  me  that 
makes  me  hate  the  things  you  like,  and — and  I  can't 
help  it." 

She  was  clinging  to  her  mother's  neck,  the  tears  gush- 
ing from  her  eyes,  her  heart  bursting  with  disappoint- 
ment in  Dardino  and  an  overwhelming  pity  for  herself. 

"I  know,  dear — I  ought  to  have  helped  you  more.  It 
was  too  bad  of  me  to  expect  an  old  head  on  these  young 
shoulders,"  soothed  Mrs.  Dereham,  whose  mother  love 
was  strong  enough  for  her  to  brave  death  and  worse, 
but  not  wise  enough  to  make  her  break  through  the  pru- 
dery of  generations  which  bound  her  round  and  round 
as  in  a  vice. 

Understanding,  friendship,  true  love  slunk  in  the 
background  of  their  hearts,  striving  for  an  outlet  but 
striving  in  vain. 


CHAPTER  X 

TWO  months  had  passed  since  Zoe  became  an  in- 
mate of  the  Jacob  household  and  it  seemed  as 
though  her  mother's  hope,  that  she  would  settle  down, 
was  to  be  fulfilled  at  last. 

The  luxury  of  the  huge  house  appealed  to  her  from 
the  first.  She  loved  warmth  and  comfort  like  a  cat. 
The  softness  of  the  velvety  carpets,  the  glitter  of  ex- 
quisite glass  and  silver,  the  automatic  precision  of  the 
well-drilled  servants  made  her  purr  with  delight. 
Moreover,  she  took  to  Rachel  Jacob  at  once,  and  Rachel 
took  to  her. 

Louis  Jacob  was  a  big  pot  in  the  City,  but  a  mere 
nobody  in  Mayfair.  But  that  did  not  trouble  him  at 
all.  Perhaps  because  he  knew  that  he  could  cling  as 
easily  as  any  other  climber  to  the  fringe  of  Society, 
if  he  so  wished — nay,  creep  to  its  very  center — since 
money  is  the  "Open  Sesame"  of  its  once  jealously 
closed  doors. 

For  money  came  to  him  as  easily  as  it  slipped  through 
the  fingers  of  other  men.  Everything  he  touched 
turned  to  gold.  In  financial  circles  he  was  known  as 
"the  lucky  Louis,"  and  the  sobriquet  was  not  inappro- 
priate in  other  ways.  For  he  was  as  yellow  as  a 
guinea,  and  as  free  from  dross  as  current  gold  can  be. 

In  appearance  he  did  honor  to  his  race  which  was 
hinted  at  by  the  pathetic  look  in  his  dark  eyes.  He  was 
the  very  antithesis  of  what  one  expected  from  his  name : 
tall  and  thin,  with  a  somewhat  Roman  nose,  his  brown 
hair  turning  gray,  his  manner  polished,  his  smile  win- 
ning. 

121 


122  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

Rachel  was  not  at  all  like  him.  Perhaps  she  took 
after  the  mother  who  died  at  her  birth  and  who  had 
been  replaced  in  the  household  by  Miss  Jacob — a  bird- 
like  woman  full  of  nervous  fads  and  fancies,  who 
adored  her  brother  and  was  managed  by  her  niece.  For 
Rachel  was  very  small  and  plump,  with  the  full  devel- 
oped bust,  so  common  amongst  Jewish  girls — which 
foreshadows  a  middle  age  wallowing  in  fat,  unless  sub- 
jected to  the  most  rigid  regime  in  dress  and  diet. 

She  was  like  a  frolicking  kitten,  full  of  play  and 
mischief,  impulsive  and  affectionate,  yet  capable  enough 
of  using  her  claws  if  necessary.  She  seemed  as  fresh 
and  innocent  as  a  daisy,  just  the  kind  of  girl  to  get 
on  with  Zoe,  reflected  Mrs.  Dereham  when  she  looked 
into  her  smiling  little  face.  For  Rachel  had  followed 
her  aunt  and  father  into  the  drawing-room,  determined 
to  settle  the  matter  for  herself. 

Her  quick  eyes  ran  appraisingly  over  Zoe's  figure  and 
she  told  herself  that,  although  this  girl  was  really 
pretty,  she  would  merely  act  as  a  foil  to  her,  since  their 
styles  were  so  dissimilar.  Besides,  she  looked  a  good 
sport  and  anything  but  a  prig.  It  did  not  suit  Rachel's 
book  to  have  that  sort! 

So  whilst  the  elders  talked  she  drew  Zoe  aside  into 
the  recess  of  the  heavily  curtained  window  and  began 
to  catechise  her  briskly  after  the  manner  of  school- 
girls. 

"What  school  did  you  go  to?" 

"Sainte  Croix,  near  Bordeaux." 

"Oh!  I  went  to  Brighton.  But  I  didn't  stay  there 
long.  Six  weeks  were  enough  for  me.  No  prison  for 
this  child—" 

"Was  it  as  bad  as  that?" 

"Well,  you  know.  Silly  rules  and  that  sort  of  thing. 
They  kicked  up  a  fuss  when  my  Cousin  Reuben  came 
to  see  me.  How  did  they  know  he  was  my  cousin  ?  Did 


THE  LUBE  OF  THE  FLAME      123 

my  father  approve,  and — and — you  know  the  sort  of 
thing." 

"Kather!"  smiled  Zoe. 

"Then  it's  true  about  your  speaking  French?  Peo- 
ple tell  such  lies,  you  know,  that  I  hardly  believe — " 

"I  know  it  as  well  as  English." 

"That's  good.    One  thing  in  your  favor." 

"Why?" 

"Never  mind  why — I'm  keen  to  speak  it  myself,  for 
one  thing." 

She  spoke  as  though  she  hoped  to  be  questioned  all 
the  same,  and  Zoe,  versed  in  the  ways  of  girls,  responded 
at  once. 

"But  the  real  reason?"  she  asked. 

"Hush,"  said  Kachel,  throwing  an  apprehensive 
glance  at  the  others.  "There's  someone.  He's  simply 
adorable!  Limpid  eyes,  thick  mustache,  a  lovely  face. 
And  he  dotes  on  me,  and  he's  French — that's  why." 

"Can  he  speak  English?" 

"A  little.  But  he  runs  off  into  French  and  it's  hor- 
rid not  understanding.  If  it  comes  to — well — df  we  get 
engaged,  though  I  don't  say  we  shall — " 

"Why  not?" 

"There's  another — English,  just  as  nice!" 

"H'm,"  smiled  Zoe,  thrilling  at  the  news.  "  'Em- 
barras  de  richesse.'  " 

"How  beautifully  you  say  it!  It's  like  cream  slip- 
ping off  your  tongue — " 

"Never  mind  that — which  do  you  like  best?"  went 
on  Zoe,  her  eyes  eager. 

"Both  the  same.  And  they're  awfully  gone  on  me. 
So  I  find  them  hard  to  manage,  like  the  others.  That's 
why  I've  taken  to  wearing  this  ring — " 

She  held  out  a  plump  left  hand.  A  diamond  ring 
sparkled  on  the  third  finger.  Zoe  looked  puzzled  as 
she  exclaimed: 


124  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

"But  that's  the  engagement  finger!  Are  you — 
really?—" 

"No,  silly.    It's  to  keep  the  press  off,  that's  all." 

"What  press?" 

"My  admirers,  if  you  like.  One  must  have  a  little 
peace.  Besides,  it's  such  fun  to  see  how  puzzled  they 
are,  and  jealous!  It's  Minnie,  my  maid,  who  suggested 
my  doing  it.  And  it  gives  Auntie's  old  friends  some- 
thing to  wonder  at." 

"I  wonder  your  father  lets  you — " 

"Pooh!  he  doesn't  mind  anything  I  do — nor  does 
Auntie.  Of  course,  they  don't  know  my  reason  for 
doing  it.  Only  Minnie  knows  that,  because  she  goes 
out  with  me.  But  I  was  getting  sick  of  her — she's  no 
use  at  all  for  taking  any  of  them  off  my  hands.  That 's 
why  I  told  Dad  I  wanted  a  companion." 

"You  said  you  wanted  French  and  music." 

"So  I  do,  goosey.  But  I  also  want  someone  to  play 
with  me.  I  love  larking  with  those  silly  men,  they're 
so  gullible!  You  can  twist  them  round  your  finger 
if  you  like.  A  girl  can  make  any  man  she  fancies  fall 
madly  in  love  with  her,  if  she  puts  her  mind  to  it — 
don't  you  think?" 

"I — I  don't  know,"  faltered  Zoe,  her  mind  running 
through  her  gallery  of  pictures:  Roy — Buckell — Bert 
Lindon — and  the  many  strangers  whose  names  she  did 
not  know. 

"Well,  you  can.  It's  the  greatest  fun  in  the  world, 
I  think." 

"What  does  your  father  say — and  your  aunt?" 

"They  don't  know  everything.  Besides,  they'd  say 
I'm  only  a  child — and  see  I  mean  nothing,  really." 

"Do  they  know  the  Frenchman?" 

"No — he  came  to  my  box." 

"What  box?"  ejaculated  Zoe,  her  eyes  wide  with  curi- 
osity and  hope. 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      125 

"What  box  do  you  think?  Don't  you  know  Dad  has 
a  lot  to  do  with  theaters  and  music  halls?  I  can  get 
a  box  anywhere,  at  any  time.  It's  mere  luck  I'm  at 
home  to-night,  but  Minnie  had  a  night  out  and  Auntie 
hardly  ever  goes,  and  there  was  no  one  to  take  me. 
If  you  come, — but  of  course  you'll  come,  won't  you?" 

She  slipped  her  arm  coaxingly  through  Zoe's  and 
smiled  up  into  the  sparkling  gray  eyes. 

"We  should  have  such  fun  together — I  can  tell  you," 
she  went  on.  "And  you'd  see  Gustave,  and  the  others. 
They  always  come  to  my  box  when  they're  there,  and 
then  we  have  supper  afterwards  at  a  jolly  little  place — 
or  tea,  if  it's  a  matinee!  Only  you  mustn't  tell  that. 
Auntie's  a  bit  silly  sometimes,  though  Minnie  says  she's 
'no  cause  to  be,'  as  there's  no  harm  in  what  we  do. 
Nor  is  there.  Considering  we're  put  into  the  world 
to  marry,  how  can  we  do  it  if  we  don't  get  to  know 
men  properly,  before  we  decide  which  one  to  have. 
And  I'm  so  dull  here  that  I  must  work  off  steam  at 
times.  And  so  must  you.  I'm  sure  you  know  some- 
body you  like,  and  it's  no  good  your  looking  as  though 
you  didn't." 

She  laughed  merrily,  as  hot  blushes  chased  one  an- 
other over  Zoe's  face.  And  at  the  sound  Mr.  Jacob 
smiled  at  Mrs.  Dereham  and  exclaimed: 

"They  seem  to  have  decided  matters  themselves,  you 
see.  I  haven't  heard  my  girl  laugh  like  that  for  days. 
Old  people  are  rather  depressing  for  a  child,  when  all's 
said  and  done." 

"Yes,  you  are!"  cried  Rachel,  dancing  across  to  him 
and  clinging  to  his  arm.  "That's  why  Zoe  is  coming 
here.  I  like  her,  and  she  likes  me,  don't  you?  And 
she  speaks  French  so  beautifully  that  I'm  bound  to  do 
so  soon — " 

"I  don't  quite  understand  this  sudden  craze  for  study 
in  my  child,  Mrs.  Dereham,"  he  interposed,  with  an  in- 


126  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

dulgent  smile,  "for  she's  really  a  lazy  puss,  but  I  shall 
be  delighted  to  keep  your  daughter  if — " 

"From  this  minute!"  interrupted  Rachel. 

"It's  not  fair  of  you  to  ask  that,"  exclaimed  Miss 
Jacob.  "Mrs.  Dereham  may  not  wish  to  part  with  her 
so  suddenly." 

' '  Why  not  ? "  pouted  the  girl.  * '  Zoe  doesn  't  mind.  I 
can  lend  her  clothes,  and  things,  until  hers  come,  and 
you'd  like  to  stay,  wouldn't  you,  Zoe?" 

Zoe  glanced  appealingly  at  her  mother,  who  was  look- 
ing anxiously  at  her.  "I  could  stay,  if  mother  doesn't 
mind,"  she  ventured  hurriedly.  "I  was  going  to  spend 
the  night  with  a  friend,  so  I  have  my  night  things  in 
a  bag  downstairs." 

"But  what  about  the  friend?"  inquired  Miss  Jacob. 

"Oh,  she  won't  mind!  I  can  go  to  her  another 
time." 

"And  you  really  think  you'd  like  to  live  with  us?" 
asked  Jacob,  his  eyes — of  the  kind  that  say  so  much 
more  than  they  mean — intent  on  hers. 

"I  should  love  it,  I'm  sure!"  she  replied,  coloring 
a  little  as  she  wondered  what  he  thought  of  her,  what 
his  look,  which  was  more  than  mere  interest  in  a  child, 
could  really  mean.  Did  he  think  her  as  pretty  as 
Rachel?  Did  he  think  her  prettier?  Could  she  make 
him,  old  as  he  was,  admire  her  as  Rachel  said  a  girl 
could  make  any  man?  It  would  be  fun  to  try — fun  to 
be  with  Rachel,  although  she  was  conceited  enough  to 
imagine  every  man  she  met  in  love  with  her — fun,  glori- 
ous fun  to  have  a  box  at  any  theater. 

And  so  Mrs.  Dereham  left  her  after  many  injunctions 
to  do  her  best  to  settle  down  and  give  satisfaction. 

"They  seem  so  kind  that  you  really  ought  to,  this 
time,"  she  ended,  as  Zoe  went  downstairs  with  her. 
And  Zoe,  who  was  full  of  good  resolutions,  backed  by 
delight  at  the  glorious  prospects  held  out  to  her,  prom- 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      127 

ised  readily  enough — as  she  had  promised  before — to  do 
her  best.  She  really  meant  to  be  a  good  girl  if  things 
were  not  against  her,  as  they  always  had  been,  and  she 
was  deeply  sorry  for  having  given  so  much  trouble 
and  yet — wasn't  it  a  good  thing  she  had,  after  all? 

Her  eyes  were  moist  and  a  little  feeling  of  home- 
sickness stirred  in  her  heart  as  she  watched  the  shabby 
little  figure  go  down  the  steps  and  slip  into  the  night. 
But  how  silly  of  her  to  mind!  She  could  go  down  to 
Dunsworth  any  day,  or  her  mother  could  come  here! 
And  she  would  show  the  people  there  that  everybody 
did  not  think  her  beneath  notice,  because  she  had  to 
earn  her  living.  "Wait  until  they  saw  her  from  the 
various  pits  and  back  rows  of  the  circles — leaning  on 
the  velvet  edge  of  the  principal  box  in  the  house — a 
handsome  man  or  two  hanging  over  her  chair!  Wait 
until  they  saw  her  there,  many  opera  glasses  focused  on 
her  face,  many  whispers  as  to  her  name  ringing  in  their 
ears!  They,  poor  things,  could  never  do  likewise, 
money  being  more  scarce  with  them  than  silly  pride,  or, 
if  not  scarce,  too  precious  to  spend  in  what  they  called 
a  reckless  way. 

And  Mrs.  Dereham  went  home,  her  heart  full  of 
thanksgiving.  She  was  delighted  she  had  found  such 
a  good  post  for  the  child,  one  more  worthy  of  her  and 
more  likely  to  suit  her.  If  anyone  had  told  her  then 
that  she  had  left  her  ewe  lamb  in  the  very  last  place  in 
the  world  where  she  ought  to  be,  she  would  have 
flouted  them  as  readily  as  she  had  flouted  Mrs.  Broome- 
Taylor  earlier  in  the  day.  Even  if  she  heard  of  Louis 
Jacob's  numerous  irons  in  the  theatrical  fire,  it  would 
not  have  alarmed  her.  Miss  Jacob  was  so  sensible, 
Rachel  such  a  child,  Jacob,  himself,  a  perfect  gentleman ! 
Zoe  was  in  safe  hands  at  last,  poor  child,  and  that  un- 
healthy craving  for  the  stage  would  soon  disappear 
from  her  wild  heart. 


128  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

But,  although  she  went  her  way,  telling  herself  that 
"God's  in  His  heaven — all's  well  with  the  world,"  lit- 
tle by  little  she  began  to  notice  a  difference  in  the 
people  round  her.  They  were  more  reserved,  there  was 
a  stiffness  in  some  she  had  never  seen  before — one  or  two 
gave  up  their  lessons  unexpectedly.  But  the  brave  lit- 
tle woman  fought  on  through  these  trials,  reflecting 
that  such  difficulties  were  no  greater  really  than  before, 
that  she  had  allowed  herself  to  adopt  Zoe's  outlook 
which  was  foolish,  considering  her  greater  wisdom  and 
understanding.  Moreover,  the  pain  in  her  side  which 
had  been  intermittent  for  the  last  two  years  was  be- 
coming more  regular,  and  perhaps  affected  her  work 
and  her  way  of  looking  at  things.  A  diseased  body  need 
not  necessarily  mean  a  diseased  mind,  but  the  one  may 
affect  the  other  for  all  that. 

It  never  occurred  to  her  that  her  imagination  was  not 
at  fault  and  that  her  popularity  had  really  begun  to 
wane — undermined  at  first  by  a  mere  whisper  or  two 
from  Mrs.  Broome-Taylor  regarding  Zoe's  behavior  and 
sudden  eclipse.  Then  that  Zoe  was  seen,  as  the  girl  so 
proudly  hoped,  in  a  box  at  the  theater  with  another  girl. 
They  were  both  excited,  laughing  and  joking  with  a 
bevy  of  young  men,  attracting  attention  on  all  sides. 
Three  different  people  saw  them  thus,  in  three  differ- 
ent houses.  One  lunched  in  a  restaurant  where  they 
had  a  table,  another  met  them  in  Piccadilly  escorted  by 
two  over-dressed  youths,  a  third  stood  on  the  curb  be- 
side them  and  heard  them  fix  up  a  supper  with  a 
middle-aged  fop.  And  the  gossip  grew,  escaping  none 
but  Mrs.  Dereham. 

After  all,  poor  thing,  who  was  she?  There  was  a 
mystery  about  her,  you  know.  Was  her  husband  dead? 
Had  she  ever  had  one?  Zoe  was  unmistakably  fast, 
and  there  is  never  a  fire  without  smoke. 

Just  as  rats  forsake  a  sinking  ship,  so  the  few  who 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      129 

tried  to  defend  Mrs.  Dereham  found  themselves  obliged 
to  save  their  own  skins. 

If  you  touch  pitch  some  is  bound  to  stick,  and  it  is 
folly  to  risk  such  a  calamity  which  would  include  an 
everlasting  stain  and  affect  your  position  in  the  com- 
munity, just  because  you  rather  like  and  pity  a  person 
whose  past,  now  you  come  to  think  about  it,  has  been 
hushed  in  silence. 

Meanwhile  Zoe,  the  unconscious  instrument  of  her 
mother's  torture,  was  making  the  most  of  life.  The 
craving  for  the  stage,  far  from  disappearing,  loomed 
large  within  her  heart — though  for  the  time  being  she 
was  content  to  view  the  life  from  the  front  of  the 
footlights. 

It  was  such  a  pleasant  life,  so  full  of  laughter  and 
enjoyment!  You  had  only  to  look  your  prettiest  and 
smile  bewitchingly  to  win  the  admiring  eyes  of  any 
man  you  fancied  in  the  vast  audience  below,  and  around, 
your  box  where  you  sat  like  a  young  queen.  The  ex- 
citement of  fixing  your  gaze  on  a  face  and  compelling 
it  to  turn  at  your  will,  was  only  vied  by  the  beating  of 
your  heart  when  a  loud  rap  sounded  at  the  door  and 
the  owner  of  the  face  peeped  in,  perhaps  to  claim  ac- 
quaintance with  Mr.  Jacob  as  his  excuse  for  wishing 
to  know  his  daughter  and  her  friend. 

It  was  that  excuse  which  quelled  the  sudden  murmur 
of  Zoe's  memory — "A  nice  girl  doesn't  speak  to  stran- 
gers." What  rot  that  was!  What  a  lot  of  harmless 
pleasure  girls  missed  by  believing  and  obeying  it! 
What  possible  harm  could  there  be  in  an  hour's  chat 
with  a  nice  man ;  a  cup  of  tea,  or  a  plate  of  soup,  taken 
in  his  company? 

So  both  she  and  Rachel,  escorted  sometimes  by  Min- 
nie, but  more  often  left  to  themselves,  played  their  dan- 
gerous game  like  two  children  playing  with  fire.  In 


130  THE  LURE  OP  THE  FLAME 

fact,  the  children,  in  knowing  their  risk,  have  the  ad- 
vantage. For  Rachel,  with  all  her  greater  experience 
of  the  world,  was  just  as  ignorant  of  the  true  danger 
they  ran  as  Zoe  herself.  What  she  had  learned  from 
Minnie's  guarded  and  giggling  remarks  had  merely 
whetted  her  curiosity,  and  made  the  game  more  at- 
tractive. Their  young  eyes  scanned  the  faces  of  the 
painted  women  of  Piccadilly  and  Leicester  Square  with- 
out one  glimmer  of  light  into  the  life  they  represented. 
Rachel  laughed  and  called  them  "hot  stuff,"  and  "no 
better  than  they  should  be."  Though  when  pressed  to 
say  why,  she  merely  shook  her  head,  exclaiming:  "Be- 
cause they  are.  Can't  you  see,  silly?" 

Zoe  had  always  been  puzzled  about  these  women 
since  the  day  she  remarked  about  one  of  them  to  her 
mother.  For  instead  of  the  simple  truth,  which  would 
have  dismissed  the  subject  and  all  curiosity  from  her 
mind,  she  had  the  shocked  reply — that  you  must  never 
speak  about  such  creatures, — wicked  women  that  they 
were, — to  anyone,  and  certainly  never  to  a  man;  that 
you  must  ignore  them  to  the  extent  of  not  seeing  them ; 
that  you  must  never  touch  them  or  let  them  touch  you 
— had  made  her  think  of  them  all  the  more. 

She  wondered  what  mystery  enveloped  them,  what 
good  it  would  do  her  to  show  contempt,  when  they  eyed 
her  with  a  proud  indifferent  stare  which  made  her  feel 
so  small  and  stupid.  She  never  saw  one  without  re- 
calling her  mother's  words  and  wondering  what  they 
really  meant. 

Nor,  although  she  was  now  free  to  look  at  the  leering 
faces  of  the  numerous  roues  they  met,  to  read  certain 
advertisements  she  came  across,  she  never  did  so  with- 
out a  lurking  sense  of  doing  wrong  and  the  memory  of 
her  mother's  shocked  eyes  and  hurried  exclamation: 
"Don't  look;  it  isn't  nice!  Never  mind  why — I  tell 
you  so." 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      131 

Truly  the  world  was  full  of  mystery — the  more  it 
puzzled  the  more  tempting  it  seemed! 

It  was  like  Pandora's  box.  A  beautiful  casket,  full 
of  what? — old-fashioned  people,  like  her  mother,  shook 
their  heads  and  told  her  to  be  careful  in  opening  it. 
Others,  like  Rachel  and  her  friends,  laughed  and  cried: 
"Eat,  drink  and  be  merry,  for  to-morrow  we  die." 
"Were  there  none  who  really  knew  what  one  ought  to 
do? 

Why  should  you  not  know  everything?  Why  should 
you  be  squeamish  and  imagine  that  only  evil  things 
were  inside  the  box?  And,  even  then,  would  it  not 
be  better  to  see  and  fight  them,  than  to  go  on  fearing, 
dreading,  hiding  until  you  had  no  pluck  left  to  cope 
with  them  if  they  suddenly  confronted  you? 


CHAPTER  XI 

SUCH  a  friendship,  as  Zoe's  and  Rachel's,  is  like  a 
house  built  on  sand.  One  wind  a  little  stronger 
than  another  can  blow  it  to  the  four  quarters  and  leave 
you  stranded  in  the  hurricane,  or  crushed  by  the 
debris. 

So  whilst  everything  seemed  smooth  enough  between 
them  a  storm  was  gathering  up.  For  Rachel  was  be- 
ginning to  resent  Zoe's  beauty  and  greater  charm. 
She  was  too  conceited  to  believe  that  her  evanescent 
prettiness,  commonly  called  "beaute  de  diable,"  could 
be  eclipsed  by  anyone  without  her  bright  coloring,  dark 
eyes  and  darker  hair.  She  knew  Zoe  was  beautiful,  but 
thought  herself  more  beautiful  and  expected  to  queen  it 
everywhere  with  Zoe,  a  devoted  maid  of  honor,  merely 
in  the  background. 

But  Zoe  was  one  too  many  for  her  and  anything  but 
willing  to  efface  herself.  Moreover,  it  is  doubtful  if 
the  inane  youths  Rachel  thought  so  much  of  would  have 
allowed  it.  For  they  one  and  all  began  very  soon  to 
show  a  preference  for  Zoe,  whose  coquetry  was  suffi- 
cient to  attract  wiser  men  than  themselves. 

Gustave  Boissier  had  been  the  first  to  succumb  to 
her  charms,  probably  because  she  had  more  repartee 
and  spoke  his  tongue  better  than  Rachel.  There  were 
high  words  between  the  girls  in  consequence  when  Zoe 
threatened  to  go,  little  caring,  in  her  anger,  whether 
she  went  or  not,  and  Rachel  flung  herself  upon  her  neck 
with  fresh  avowals  of  eternal  friendship  and  devotion. 

But,  in  spite  of  these  passionate  reconciliations,  Zoe 
flirted  just  as  much,  taking  a  delight  in  winning  admi- 

132 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      133 

ration  from  Rachel's  friends,  and  Rachel,  growing  more 
jealous  every  day,  began  to  think  that  Minnie's  chap- 
eronage  was  better  than  the  companionship  of  another 
girl.  Her  anxiety  to  learn  French  had  worn  off  long 
ago,  and  the  discovery  that  Zoe's  singing  was  better 
than  her  own  had  given  her  a  distaste  for  music.  She 
cared  only  for  the  wild  rush  of  pleasure  and  became 
more  and  more  restless,  and  hard  to  please,  as  the  days 
went  on,  and  Gustave's  faithlessness  grew  more 
apparent. 

Mr.  Jacob  was  too  preoccupied  to  notice  her  discon- 
tent or  to  realize  that  the  girls  were  not  always  the 
best  of  friends.  Miss  Jacob  commented  on  her  loss  of 
appetite  and  fits  of  irritability,  putting  them  down  to 
the  spring  and  want  of  change.  She  suggested  the  sea 
one  day  and  the  next  found  them  all  installed  at  the 
principal  hotel  in  Folkestone,  both  girls  full  of  high 
spirits,  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes,  a  little  sorry,  perhaps, 
to  leave  their  favorite  haunts  in  town,  but  eager  enough 
for  new  scenes  and  new  faces. 

Thus  it  was  that  Zoe,  coming  back  for  a  book,  after 
starting  out  for  a  walk,  ran  straight  into  Raymond 
Raynor. 

"Mr.  Raynor!"  she  exclaimed,  stopping  with  a  bril- 
liant smile.  "Fancy  you,  here!" 

"And  you,  Miss  Zoe!" 

"Yes!  Isn't  it  strange,"  laughed  Zoe.  "We  came 
this  morning." 

* '  And  we  go,  in  an  hour  or  two !  We  're  resting  just 
now,  but  start  work  to-morrow." 

Although  he  did  not  mention  Dardino,  she  knew  who 
the  "we"  stood  for  and  glanced  apprehensively  around, 
half  fearing  to  meet  Dardino 's  eyes  full  of  the  anger 
she  had  seen  in  them  last. 

"And  what  are  you  doing  here?"  he  asked,  smil- 
ingly. 


134  THE  LURE  OP  THE  FLAME 

She  poured  out  her  story  in  hurried  words,  well 
aware  of  his  approving  look.  He  had  a  way  about  him 
which  made  you  feel  as  though  you  were  some  object 
of  art  up  for  valuation;  as  though  he  missed  no  flaw 
in  your  anatomy. 

"And  so  the  stage  is  off !"  he  exclaimed,  as  she  ended 
with  a  little  nervous  laugh. 

"Oh,  dear  no!    I  still  long  for  it,  but—" 

"  'Man  proposes,  God  disposes,'  eh?" 

"For  the  present,  perhaps.  It's  later  on  that  I  may 
be  able  to  do  as  I  want.  This  kind  of  thing  doesn't 
last  forever,  and  I  don't  mean  to  resume  teaching  or 
— anything  horrid,  I  can  tell  you." 

"You  really  mean  it?" 

"Of  course.  I — I  meant  it  before,  only  my  mother 
had  got  me  with  the  Jacobs,  and — and  I  was  afraid  to 
refuse  lest  no  one  would  help  me.  You  see,  Madame 
Dardino  wasn't  pleased  that  night  and — " 

"Never  mind  that."  He  dropped  his  voice.  "But 
if  you  really  intend  trying  I  '11  give  you  a  leg  up — only, 
mum's  the  word.  As  you  say,  Madame  Dardino  isn't 
likely  to  approve,  so  we  mustn't  upset  her." 

"She  was  very  angry  with  me  for  copying  her, 
wasn't  she?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  We're  all  human  and  don't  like 
feeling  our  noses  put  out  of  joint.  It  stands  to  rea- 
son. If  you  become  a  celebrity  you'll  be  like  it  too, 
some  day,  when  a  pretty  young  girl  comes  along  and 
dances  and  sings  as  well,  if  not  better,  than  your- 
self—" 

"Oh,  Mr.  Raynor,  I  didn't  really  do  that?" 

"Well — perhaps  not  quite.     But — ' 

"But? — "     She  hung  on  the  word  with  eagerness. 

"But  what's  the  good  of  talking  to  me  when  old 
Louis  Jacob  can  get  you  in  anywhere.  His  name  is  a 
powerful  one  in  our  world." 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      135 

"Ah!  but  he  doesn't  approve  of  girls  like  me  going 
on  the  stage.  He's  very  particular,  too.  Although  he 
knows  heaps  and  heaps  of  theatrical  people,  they  never 
come  to  the  house.  He  says  we  may  look  at  them  as 
much  as  we  like,  on  the  stage — but  not  off.  So  there 
you  are!" 

"H'm!  Pity.  Well,  remember  what  I  said.  A  few 
good  lessons  with  Leonora  and  who  knows  what  you'd 
do  as  a  dancer?  And  for  your  voice,  if — " 

"Leonora!  The  great  Leonora!  Would  she  teach 
me?" 

"If  I  ask  her  to,  most  certainly,"  he  smiled.  "But 
what's  the  good.  You're  settled  where  you  are,  until 
one  of  those  nice  young  men  marries  you — " 

"What  if  I  don't  marry  him?"  asked  Zoe,  as  red 
as  a  peony. 

"Ah!  I  haven't  seen  you  in  your  boxes  at  the  the- 
ater for  nothing,  young  lady!  Nor  at  the  Carlton! 
Nor  at  Maxim's!  Nor — bowling  along  in  the  Jacob 
car — one  of  a  merry  party  in  spite  of  Papa  Jacob  be- 
ing so  very  particular,  which  is  a  little  surprising,  con- 
sidering his  daughter's  goings  on." 

"That's  only  fun!"  she  stammered,  wondering  how 
he  could  have  seen  her  without  her  seeing  him. 

"And  what  is  marriage,  then?"  he  laughed,  his  eyes 
compelling  hers  as  the  color  rushed  to  her  brow. 

"I— I  don't  know." 

"Perhaps  you  prefer  quantity  to  quality,"  he  teased, 
evidently  enjoying  her  confusion,  and  giving  her  full 
credit  for  the  innocence  she  looked. 

"I  don't  want  to  be  tied  to  one  man  for  life,  yet — " 

"That's  not  necessary  anyhow,"  he  smiled  ambigu- 
ously. 

"I  know.  But  it's  such  a  bore  having  to  get  di- 
vorced. So  I'm  not  going  to  risk  it  until  I've  had  my 
fling.  Rachel  says  it's  the  only  way  we  women  can 


136  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

get  to  know  what  men  are  like — just  as  men  sow  their 
wild  oats  before  they  settle  down." 

She  said  it  so  simply  that  he  stare'd  in  amazement. 
Was  she  the  child  she  looked,  his  eyes  seemed  to  ask, 
or  was  she — what? 

"Take  care,"  he  laughed.  "Men  were  deceivers 
ever!  You  might  find  yourself  hoist  with  your  own 
petard.  Men,  having  their  fling,  often  do — to  their 
cost.  And  so  you  may  fare  the  same,  you  know." 

"I'm  not  afraid!  I  can  take  care  of  myself;  I  have 
had  heaps  of  adventures  already  and  nothing  out  of 
the  way  has  happened.  I  rather  wish  it  would,  when 
people  are  so  mysterious  and — and  so  sure  terrible 
things  ought  to." 

"Do  you — do  you?"  he  muttered,  his  face  so  close 
that  she  felt  his  breath  upon  her  cheek  and  drew  back 
from  the  mixed  smell  of  tobacco  and  spirits  it  car- 
ried. 

"And  I'm  not  giving  up  my  dream  of  the  stage," 
she  went  on,  coloring  beneath  his  strange  gaze  which 
made  her  heart  thump  noisily.  "When  I  tire  of  this 
life,  as  I'm  sure  to  some  day,  I  shall  see  what  can  be 
done." 

"Get  Mr.  'Jacob  to  help  you,  and  I'll  do  my  little 
bit,  too,"  he  smiled. 

"Thank  you.    I'll  remember." 

"Do.  The  Alcazar  Buidings  will  always  find  me," 
he  added,  turning  away  as  Dardino's  voice  floated 
towards  them  from  a  doorway. 

And  Zoe  sped  back  to  Rachel  and  Miss  Jacob,  her 
heart  singing  with  renewed  belief  in  herself,  renewed 
hope  for  the  future,  and  the  determination  to  carry 
out  her  threat  the  next  time  Rachel  and  she  fell  out. 

And  she  certainly  had  no  idea  how  near  that  mo- 
ment was,  nor  how  busily  the  fates  were  engaged  with 
her  affairs. 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      137 

For  she  found  Kachel  and  her  aunt  counting  the  lit- 
tle boats  upon  the  water,  both  as  good-tempered  as  they 
could  be. 

"What  a  time  you've  been,"  said  Rachel,  making 
room  for  her  on  the  seat. 

Zoe  explained  about  her  meeting  with  Raynor,  Aunt 
Lena  listening  with  a  disapproving  look  on  her  kind 
face. 

"You  say  they're  going?"  she  asked,  as  Zoe 
ended.  "Well,  it's  a  good  thing — Dardino  is  a  bad 
woman. ' ' 

"Bad!"  ejaculated  Rachel,  laughing.  "Of  course 
she's  not  a  saint — but  that's  why  she's  rather  attractive. 
I  hate  goody-goody  people.  And  how  is  she  bad?  Be- 
cause she's  quarreled  with  her  husband  or — ?" 

"You're  too  young  to  understand,"  said  the  little 
woman,  who  was  more  simple  and  more  childlike  than 
either  of  the  two  young  creatures  beside  her.  "But 
she's  bad  because  she  isn't  proper — she  doesn't  do 
what's  right.  She — she's  fast,  too.  I'm  sure  that 
Zoe's  mother  can't  approve  of  her." 

"That's  nothing,"  exclaimed  Zoe.  "Mother  believes 
everyone  wicked  who  makes  the  best  of  life.  You  can 
stuff  her  up  with  any  story  you  like  and  she'd  believe 
it.  People  who  live  a  quiet,  humdrum  life  like  that 
always  do,  I  think.  They  are  so  easily  shocked  that 
they  look  for  shocks  in  everything  new  to  them.  And 
that's  why  they  think  La  Dardino  wicked  because  she 
lives  away  from  her  husband  and  has  a  man  as  com- 
panion instead  of  a  woman — because  she  dresses  bet- 
ter than  they  do,  and  has  funny  friends,  and  smokes 
and  laughs  loudly,  and  drinks  wine  instead  of  water,  per- 
haps! And  all  the  time  they're  just  as  bad  for  think- 
ing horrid  things,  and  trying  to  make  out  that  white 
is  black  when  it's  only  just  a  little  bit  gray." 

She  was  flushed  and  excited.    Dardino  had  been  an- 


138  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

gry  with  her,  but  for  all  that  she  was  not  going  to 
have  her  run  down  like  that. 

"I'm  sorry,  dear,"  said  Aunt  Lena,  laying  her  hand 
on  hers.  "I  had  forgotten  Madame  Dardino  was  your 
friend,  and — I  must  say  I  only  repeated  what  is  said." 

"I  know.  If  people  would  find  out  things  for  them- 
selves it  would  be  much  better,  wouldn't  it?" 

"Anyhow,  Madame  Dardino  wouldn't  hurt  us," 
chimed  in  Rachel,  "and  I'm  sorry  she  isn't  staying. 
We  could  have  got  up  one  or  two  jolly  evenings,  in- 
stead of  which  I'm  afraid  it's  going  to  be  deadly 
dull." 

"All  the  better,"  smiled  Aunt  Lena.  "You  came 
here  for  rest." 

"It  isn't  rest  to  be  bored,"  pouted  the  girl. 

"Never  mind,"  laughed  Zoe,  "we  can  run  over  to 
Boulogne  one  day." 

"Yes,  let's!" 

"You'd  have  to  go  without  me,"  said  Aunt  Lena. 
"I  hate  the  sea,  as  you  know." 

"Of  course!  Isn't  Zoe  with  me  to  go  about  like 
that?  Let's  go  to-morrow,  Zoe.  It's  smooth  enough, 
and  Minnie  can  come  too  if  Auntie  feels  anxious." 

"I  don't  think  I  ought  to  let  you,"  demurred  Aunt 
Lena. 

"Why  ever  not?  We're  as  safe  there  on  a  steamer 
— as  in  town.  Safer,  in  a  way,  for  you  know  where 
we  are." 

"Perhaps  Aunt  Lena  is  afraid  of  our  being  kid- 
napped!" said  Zoe. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  the  little  lady,  glancing 
anxiously  from  her  to  Rachel. 

"That's  what  you  were  thinking,  isn't  it?  I'm  sure 
that's  what  mother  would.  She's  always  thinking 
things  like  that.  But  I  ask  you — why  would  anyone 
kidnap  me,  a  poor  girl  with  a  huge  appetite?  Though 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      139 

I  own  Rachel  is  different  and  that  anyone  knowing 
her  to  be  the  rich  Miss  Jacob  might  want  to  get  hold 
of  her  until  a  big  ransom  were  forthcoming.  But  I 
promise  nothing  of  the  kind  shall  happen.  I  have 
strong  fists  and  good  lungs!" 

She  smiled  into  Aunt  Lena's  face,  wondering  why 
she  looked  so  solemn.  As  if  she  had  something  horrid 
on  her  mind,  or  a  nasty  dose  of  medicine  to  take. 

It  was  too  rough  to  go  to  Boulogne  next  day,  and 
the  nexti, — and  the  girls  found  themselves  at  a  loss 
for  amusement.  A  second-rate  company  was  perform- 
ing at  the  Pleasure  Gardens  and  there  was  little  else 
to  help  them  while  away  the  time  which  hung  heavy 
on  their  hands.  Moreover,  Rachel  really  felt  ill  and 
too  tired  to  do  anything  so  that  the  proposed  trip  was 
put  off  indefinitely.  The  life  she  had  been  leading  had 
begun  to  tell  upon  her  and  it  required  all  Zoe's  small 
stock  of  patience  to  contend  with  her  peevishness. 

But  Zoe  was  exceptionally  good-tempered  just  then, 
although  she  said  she  was  bored  stiff.  She  dreamed  of 
a  golden  future  such  as  Dardino's,  and  dwelt  on  Ray- 
nor's  offer  of  help  as  on  an  accomplished  fact.  That 
she  did  not  avail  herself  of  it  at  once  by  picking  a  quar- 
rel with  Rachel  and  clearing  off,  was  due  to  the  sudden 
sense  of  prudence  due  to  her  experience  the  night  she 
went  to  town.  She  remembered  how  helpless  she  had 
felt,  how  relieved  really  when  her  mother  had  appeared ; 
and  made  up  her  mind  to  only  leave  when  she  had  laid 
her  plans  and  filled  her  purse.  In  another  month  she 
would  get  her  first  quarter's  salary — the  fourth  of  two 
hundred  pounds !  It  was  worth  while  waiting  for  that, 
as  Leonora's  lessons  would  be  expensive  enough.  And 
then  perhaps,  as  Raynor  had  said,  Mr.  Jacob  would 
help  too,  if  her  mother  consented,  as  she  certainly  must 
now. 

She  had  not  practiced  her  dancing  since  she  had  been 


140  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

with  Rachel.  Once  she  had  danced  in  the  huge  ball- 
room where  she  had  the  space  she  craved  and  a  suit- 
able setting,  but  had  met  with  so  little  enthusiasm  that 
she  had  never  felt  the  desire  to  do  so  again.  For  Aunt 
Lena  had  kissed  her  with  reserve  and  a  note  of  disap- 
proval in  her  kind  words  of  thanks,  whilst  Rachel  had 
criticised  her  freely  and  omitted  to  praise,  which  prob- 
ably meant  jealousy,  she  told  herself,  but  was  annoy- 
ing all  the  same. 

But  here,  where  there  was  nothing  to  keep  her  up 
late  and  send  her  to  bed,  tired,  she  began  her  evolu- 
tions again.  And  one  afternoon,  when  Rachel  had  gone 
to  lie  down,  she  started  off  for  a  long  walk  along  the 
sands  to  discover  a  secluded  little  bay  where  the  golden 
floor  was  as  firm  as  boards  and  seemed  laid  for  her.  To 
strip  off  her  shoes  and  stockings  and  begin  to  dance 
was  the  work  of  a  few  seconds.  Here,  with  the  tall 
cliffs  behind,  the  glimmering  sea  in  front  and  not  a 
human  being  within  sight,  she  danced  for  the  mere 
pleasure  of  dancing,  and  sang,  accompanied  by  the  mu- 
sic of  the  waves. 

The  exercise  and  the  delight  it  had  given  her,  made 
her  so  radiantly  beautiful  that  Rachel  eyed  her  sus- 
piciously, thinking  that  a  mere  walk  could  not  have 
made  her  look  like  that. 

"Did  you  meet  no  one,  no  one  at  all?"  she  asked. 

"Not  a  soul  worth  looking  at,"  laughed  Zoe.  "You 
know  the  place  is  empty — who  could  I  meet?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  thought  perhaps  Gustave  or — one 
of  the  others  might  come  down.  You'd  think  so, 
wouldn't  you?  If  they  are  as  'gone'  as  they  pretend 
to  be." 

"I  don't  know  that  I  want  them.  And  how  can  they 
come  down  when  they  don't  know  where  we  are?"  said 
Zoe,  quite  truthfully,  not  noticing  Rachel's  peculiar 
smile  as  she  retorted  sharply: 


141 

"You'd  be  glad  enough  if  they  were  here,  I  know." 

"Perhaps.  But  as  they  aren't,  it  doesn't  trouble  me. 
Come  out  for  a  bit.  It'll  do  you  good." 

"No,  thanks.  But  don't  stay  in  for  me, — I  want  to 
read  this  book.  There's  no  fun  in  walking  here,  only 
a  lot  of  old  fogies  about.  I  can't  bear  this  place.  It's 
too  bad  of  the  others  to  stay  away  and  of  you  to  be 
so  pleased  with  it." 

"I'm  not.  I  only  make  the  best  of  a  bad  job," 
smiled  Zoe,  her  mind  on  the  little  bay  and  her  next  visit 
to  it.  Then  she  would  take  her  bathing  costume  and 
feel  the  wild  winds  go  through  and  through  her. 

"Brighton  is  nicer.  I'll  make  Daddie  take  us  there, 
when  he  comes." 

"Good!  That'll  be  jolly!"  said  Zoe,  as  she  went 
out. 

She  ran  straight  into  Gustave  Bossier  near  the  en- 
trance, and  burst  into  merry  laughter. 

"Talk  of  the—"  she  began. 

"Ah,  you  were  talking  of  me!"  he  exclaimed,  seiz- 
ing her  hand.  "How  charming  of  you.  And  I  was 
thinking  of  you." 

"I  don't  say  I  was  saying  anything  nice,"  smiled 
Zoe. 

' '  Oh,  but  you  were ! —  And  I — ever  since  I  got  Miss 
Rachel's  letter  I  have  been  thinking  of  you — wishing  it 
had  been  from  you." 

"Did  Rachel  write?"  asked  Zoe,  understanding  at 
last  what  Rachel  had  meant  by  her  complaint. 

"But,  yes!  How  else  should  I  be  here!  I  came  at 
once.  I  hurried,  how  I  hurried  for  the  train,  and  I 
have  just  come  from  my  hotel  to  present  myself  to  you 
all  when — my  eyes  beheld  the  angel  of  my  heart!" 

"Don't  be  silly.  Come  and  be  presented  now.  Only 
I  don't  know  what  Aunt  Lena  will  say." 

"That's  all  right.    I  met  Mr.  Jacob  yesterday.    He 


142  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

said  his  people  were  in  Folkestone,  and  I  said  I  was 
coming — " 

"Is  it  true?"  she  queried,  her  eyes  running  over  his 
well  groomed  figure,  his  smiling  face,  his  frank  eyes 
so  full  of  admiration  on  her.  "Well,  it  may  be. 
Come." 

She  stepped  back  towards  the  room  she  had  just  left, 
but  he  stopped  her  eagerly,  as  though  seized  with  a 
new  idea,  and  exclaimed  in  French: 

"No,  no!  Not  yet.  It  is  you  I  came  to  see,  Ma- 
demoiselle." 

"But  Rachel  wrote,"  she  replied,  in  the  same  lan- 
guage, feeling  it  safer  there. 

"But^-yes." 

"She  is  the  one  you  ought  to  see." 

"Yes — perhaps.  But  one  never  wants  the  thing  one 
can  have  too  easily.  The  letter  said  'we'  are  deadly 
dull  and  pining  for  our  friends.  I  hoped  that  you — " 

"No,"  laughed  Zoe,  "I  was  not  pining  for  you." 

"Cruel.     When  I  was  dying  for  you!" 

"You  are  rehearsing  beautifully.  Rachel  will  be 
pleased." 

"Rachel!  Bah!— I  do  not  think  of  her.  It's  you 
whom  I  adore!" 

"Don't  talk  nonsense,"  she  exclaimed,  moving  away 
as  somebody  passed  them.  "If  these  people  under- 
stand, they'll  be  horrified." 

"Bother  the  people!  Where  can  we  go?  Are  you 
walking  now?" 

"No.  They  expect  me  in  for  tea.  You  had  better 
come  in,  too." 

"No.  I  have  changed  my  mind.  I  do  not  want  to 
see  them.  I  have  seen  you.  I  shall  go  away  to  my  ho- 
tel, and  wait  for  you  to  walk  with  me.  When  will  it 
be?  To-night — say  yes — to-night?" 

She   hesitated,    glancing   back   at   the   closed    doors. 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      143 

Nobody  was  about.  They  might  have  been  alone  in  the 
whole  building  but  for  the  hum  of  voices  from  the  va- 
rious rooms  around. 

"You  won't  come  in?"  she  asked.  "Well,  good-by. 
I'll  tell  Rachel  you're  here." 

"No,  please — not  yet.  You're  not  kind.  Why  can- 
not we  have  a  few  hours  to  ourselves  first?  You  know 
that  she — that  she — " 

"Will  take  care  we  don't,"  smiled  Zoe.  "I  know 
that,  but  what  is  it  you  said?  One  never  wants  a 
thing  one  cannot  have  too  easily.  So  if  I  said  yes, 
you'd  be  sick  of  the  idea  before  to-night  comes." 

"Ah,  no!  I  would  count  the  minutes,  really.  Say 
yes." 

She  was  amused  and  at  the  same  time  flattered  by 
his  persistence.  Moreover,  she  was  really  delighted  to 
see  him.  She  would  have  been  just  as  delighted  to  see 
any  man  she  knew,  for  although  she  had  managed  to 
amuse  herself  the  last  few  days  without  masculine  so- 
ciety, the  mere  sight  of  him  had  revived  all  her  long- 
ings for  it.  The  look  in  his  eyes,  the  touch  of  his  hand, 
the  soft  pleading  of  his  voice  fascinated  her  completely, 
and  she  had  merely  fenced  with  him  to  prolong  the 
pleasurable  sensation  of  her  feelings  and  to  make  quite 
sure  of  his. 

"I  don't  see  how  I  can,"  she  demurred.  "We  dine 
alone  in  our  own  room  and  go  to  bed  early." 

"What  time?"  he  asked. 

"About  ten.     There's  nothing  else  to  do." 

"But  if  you  went  for  a  walk  with  me — or  a  row  on 
the  smooth  moonlit  waters — or — " 

"It's  impossible,"  she  murmured,  looking  into  his 
ardent  eyes  and  feeling  her  heart  leap  to  him.  "I 
should  never  hear  the  end  of  it  if  I  did." 

"Who  would  know?  One  hour  by  the  sad  sea  waves 
— sad  because  they  will  not  be  so  close  to  my  Zoe,  as 


144      THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

I  long  to  be.  One  little  stolen  hour — and  you  would  be 
snug  in  your  bed  again — and  I — I  should  be  happy  as 
I  haven't  been  for  days." 

What  prudence  she  still  possessed  failed  to  work. 
Nobody  could  be  shocked  at  an  hour's  walk — or  if  they 
were,  they  had  no  right  to  be.  She  could  creep  down- 
stairs quite  easily,  out  along  the  front  and  meet  him, 
anywhere.  He  was  not  a  stranger  now.  She  had 
known  him  for  weeks.  He  was  just  a  nice,  kind  boy, 
very  polite,  very  devoted,  very  charming.  And  it 
would  be  such  fun  to  have  their  little  secret  to  them- 
selves, to  know  that  all  the  time  Rachel  was  worry- 
ing about  his  paying  no  attention  to  her  letter — the  sly 
thing — that  he  was  in  Folkestone,  and  not  caring  a  straw 
for  her. 

"Well,"  she  said,   "I'll  come." 

"You  mean  it?" 

"Of  course.  Ten  o'clock— or  rather  a  few  minutes 
after,  at  the  first  shelter.  But  only  till  eleven.  And 
now  if  you  don't  want  to  see  the  others  you  must  go. 
No,  I'll  say  nothing,  you  bet!" 

She  turned  back,  not  waiting  to  hear  his  delighted 
reply,  though  she  did  not  go  back  to  the  sitting-room 
until  he  had  gone.  Then  she  explained  that  she  had 
returned  because  she  had  not  realized  how  near  tea- 
time  it  was. 

It  was  evident  that  Rachel  was  quite  unconscious  of 
Gustave's  proximity,  and  Zoe  studied  her  face  thought- 
fully, her  lip  curled  and  her  heart  exultant.  Not  that 
she  was  naturally  spiteful,  nor  anxious  to  give  pain.  It 
was  more  the  humor  of  the  whole  thing  that  appealed 
to  her  than  anything  else.  Besides,  there  was  some- 
thing in  her  which  made  her  desire  to  secure  any  man's 
admiration — to  take  it  from  any  other  girl.  She  hated 
herself  for  the  feeling  whenever  she  realized  it  and 
resolved  to  fight  against  it — but  the  flesh  was  weak. 


145 

She  could  no  more  resist  the  temptation  when  it  came 
than  she  could  prevent  its  coming,  and  contempt  for 
Rachel's  undignified  love-sickness  stifled  whatever  com- 
punction she  may  have  felt  on  her  account. 

The  hours  passed  all  too  slowly  until  bedtime. 
There  was  the  usual  drive  between  tea  and  dinner,  the 
discussion  of  Aunt  Lena's  new  gown  during  the  meal, 
the  aimless  conversation  as  they  sat  on  the  balcony  after 
it,  and  watched  the  people  passing  to  and  fro  along 
the  front. 

This  was  the  time  when  they  could  have  had  some 
fun,  thought  Zoe,  if  Rachel  had  not  been  so  stupid 
and  Aunt  Lena  so  prudish.  For  heaps  of  nice  young 
people  then  came  to  light.  Men  who  seemed  quite  pre- 
sentable walked  with  girls  whom  they  already  knew 
as  prim  and  proper  damsels  in  the  daytime,  reading 
sedately  in  the  various  shelters,  or  walking,  three  and 
four  abreast,  with  their  bathing  costumes  under  their 
arms. 

At  last!  Aunt  Lena  was  the  first  to  move.  Then 
Rachel. — And  Zoe  found  herself  in  her  room,  waiting, 
with  her  hat  on,  for  the  moment  to  creep  out,  and  down 
and  into  the  moonlit  night. 

Her  heart  beat  loud  with  excitement  and  the  deli- 
cious sense  of  adventure.  She  felt  very  brave  and 
strong.  She  pictured  Gustave's  face  alight  with  eager- 
ness, felt  his  hand  upon  her  arm  and  thrilled.  What 
fun  they  would  have  whilst  Rachel  was  thinking  him 
miles  away  in  London! 

No  one  noticed  her  in  the  hall,  nor  near  the  door. 
Beyond  that  she  did  not  care.  Had  she  met  Minnie, 
or  caught  sight  of  Jenkins  the  chauffeur,  she  would 
have  pretended  she  was  only  going  to  post  a  letter. 
She  really  had  one,  addressed  to  her  mother,  which 
she  was  going  to  slip  into  the  letter-box  near  the  first 
seat  where ,  Gustave  awaited  her.  But  neither  of  them 


146  THE  LURE  OP  THE  FLAME 

were  about.  So  she  walked  sedately  through  the  hall 
and  out  into  the  street,  with  one  swift  glance  around 
and  an  indrawn  breath  of  intense  relief  as  the  heavy 
door  swung  to  behind  her. 

A  cab  drew  up  as  she  reached  the  pavement.  But 
cabs  were  always  stopping  there,  with  their  freight 
from  the  station.  It  was  a  busy  hotel,  although  the 
place  was  empty  and  the  season  not  yet  on.  She  only 
hoped  somebody  young,  and  nice,  had  come  this  time, 
instead  of  the  old  men  and  women  out  of  the  Ark. 
Somebody  who  would  brave  Aunt  Lena's  standoffish- 
ness,  and  liven  up  matters  a  bit. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THEY  were  by  no  means  a  solitary  couple.  Love 
was  in  the  air  and  the  cold  moon  soared  indiffer- 
ent over  all. 

Not  that  love  really  stirred  Zoe's  heart.  She  was 
merely  playing  with  it,  enjoying  to  the  full  Gustave's 
declarations,  his  unending  admiration.  But  even  as  she 
listened  to  his  outpouring  she  was  thinking  of  other 
things,  comparing  him  with  this  or  that  man  who  passed, 
wondering  what  Rachel  would  say  if  she  could  see 
them. 

He  was  very  charming  and  very  polite.  Not  even 
her  mother  could  have  objected  to  his  manner,  and  it 
was  quite  plain  they  were  doing  nothing  extraordinary, 
since  all  these  others  were  about,  whispering  love's 
young  dream  in  varying  moods  and  keys. 

It  would  perhaps  be  more  exciting,  and  just  as  true 
to  nature,  to  tell  of  a  golden  hour  of  passion  followed 
by  a  fell  attempt  on  his  part  to  keep  her  beyond  her 
time.  But  Gustave  Boissier  was  a  cautious  young  man 
who  understood  most  women,  and  fancied  he  knew  ex- 
actly how  to  net  a  mere  butterfly  like  Zoe. 

Therefore,  he  made  no  attempt  to  kiss  her — beyond 
brushing  her  fingers  with  his  lips  when  she  fed  him 
playfully  with  the  chocolates  he  had  brought — and 
turned  towards  the  hotel  at  the  first  stroke  of  eleven. 

As  he  anticipated,  no  doubt,  she  resented  his  haste 
and  expressed  her  regret  that  time  was  up.  It  had 
been  lovely — the  night  was  beautiful,  it  seemed  a  shame 
to  go  in.  Yes,  it  was  a  shame,  he  agreed,  but  if  she 

147 


148  THE  LURE  OP  THE  FLAME 

did  not  tell  the  others  that  he  was  there  they  could 
meet  again,  perhaps  run  over  to  Boulogne. 

"Yes,  let's!"  she  exclaimed,  her  eyes  dancing.  "Ra- 
chel  wants  to  go — but  it  would  be  much  nicer  with  you 
— alone !" 

' '  You  really  mean  it  f  " 

"Of  course!  I  never  say  what  I  don't  mean — that 
sort  of  thing,  at  any  rate." 

"You  would  come  away  with  me — like  that!"  he 
ejaculated,  surprised. 

"Why  not?  It's  only  a  day's  trip  and  it  would  be 
such  fun!" 

"How  could  you  explain  your  absence?" 

"Easily.  I  could  go  for  a  walk  and  get  lost.  Or 
meet  an  old  friend,  or  receive  an  invitation  from 
another  to  meet  her  at  Hythe,  or  Boulogne  itself, 
or—" 

"Oh,  you  English  girls!"  he  laughed.  "So  proper, 
so  easily  shocked  and  so  guarded — and  yet  so  clever  at 
this  kind  of  thing!" 

"You're  horrid,"  she  pouted.  "What  harm  is  there 
in  it?" 

"None.  I  adore  you  all  the  more  for  what  you  would 
do  for  me.  When  shall  we  take  this  trip  ? ' ' 

He  drew  her  aside  into  the  shadow  of  a  deserted 
shelter.  The  disappointment  she  had  felt  at  his  seem- 
ing coldness,  despite  his  ardent  words,  vanished  from 
her  heart.  The  spell  of  his  personality  held  her  as 
in  a  web. 

"To-morrow?"  she  faltered. 

He  seized  her  hands.  Under  the  calm  moonlight  his 
face  showed  white  and  his  eyes  gleamed.  A  vision  of 
the  couple  she  had  fled  from  in  Sainte  Croix  flashed 
across  her  memory  and  roused  her  fear.  She  recalled 
Buckell's  hot  breath  and  fierce  clutch. 

"Let  me  go — let  me  go!"  she  panted. 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      149 

"You  are  adorable!  adorable!"  he  whispered, 
holding  her  tighter. 

''And  I  do  not  mind  if  you  say  no,  for  what  one  can- 
not get  easily  one  always  wants.  Promise  to  meet  me 
to-morrow — at  ten, — near  the  station,  shall  we  say?" 

"If  you  let  me  go — yes — " 

"You  wiU  not  kiss  me?" 

"No— no—  " 

She  pulled  herself  free  and  began  to  run,  afraid  to 
look  back  until  she  reached  the  hotel.  Then  she 
straightened  her  hat  and  walked  in  quietly,  looking  as 
though  she  could  not  say  "bo"  to  a  goose,  still  less 
run  away  from  one. 

She  held  her  breath  as  she  went  upstairs  and  crept 
along  the  landing,  past  Miss  Jacob's  room,  and  Rachel's, 
towards  her  own  which  was  at  the  far  end. 

Then  something  horrible  happened.  The  sitting- 
room  door  opened  noiselessly  and  she  was  confronted 
by  Mr.  Jacob.  He  had  never  looked  so  tall  before,  nor 
so  severe.  His  kind  eyes  were  full  of  anger,  his  fin- 
gers felt  like  steel  as  they  closed  round  her  arm  and 
drew  her  into  the  room. 

"Where  have  you  been?"  he  asked. 

"To  post  a  letter  to  my  mother,"  she  answered 
glibly,  glancing  past  him  to  Aunt  Lena  and  Rachel 
who  sat  huddled  together,  on  the  couch,  like  frightened 
sheep. 

"Does  it  take  an  hour  to  walk  to  the  pillar  box?" 

"No.  But  it  is  such  a  lovely  night,  I  went  for  a 
walk." 

"At  this  time!    By  yourself!" 

She  braved  his  eyes  and  lied  as  valiantly  as  she  knew 
how.  Lied  because  it  was  easier  than  the  truth,  and 
she  could  not  help  herself.  But  she  quailed  beneath 
the  scorching  contempt  in  his  face,  and  wondered 
vaguely  what  he  knew,  as  he  retorted  angrily: 


150  THE  LURE  OP  THE  FLAME 

"That  isn't  true!"  Then  as  she  opened  her  lips  to 
speak:  "Heavens,  girl  you  know  you  lie!  "Who  were 
you  with?" 

Even  in  that  moment  of  confusion  she  could  not  re- 
press a  little  feeling  of  delight  at  the  thought  of  Ra- 
chel's annoyance,  as  she  stammered: 

"A — a  friend — Mr.  Gustave  Boissier." 

"Gustave!"  cried  Rachel,  springing  up  and  rushing 
at  her  like  a  cat  about  to  spring.  "Oh,  you  horrid 
wretch,  you  mean  thing,  you — " 

"Hush!"  said  her  father,  waving  her  back. 

"She  has  stolen  him  from  me!  I  meant  to  tell  you 
all  about  him,  but  now — now — ' 

"Now,  my  child,  you  will  listen  to  me  and  keep  your 
tears  for  a  more  worthy  object.  When  you  found  Zoe 
was  not  in  her  room  just  now,  and  came  to  tell  Aunt 
Lena,  you  were  surprised  to  find  her  up  and  me  with 
her.  You  asked  why  I  had  come  so  unexpectedly,  now 
I  will  tell  you — I  came  to  save  you  girls  from  the  at- 
tentions of  this  Gustave  Boissier.  Yes,  it  surprises  you, 
I  know,  but  I  heard  all  about  him  yesterday  when  he 
was  pointed  out  to  me  in  a  restaurant  which  he  was 
leaving,  unfortunately,  as  I  went  in.  He  had  been 
overheard  talking  to  a  couple  of  other  men  about  you 
— saying  he  knew  where  you  were,  but  would  not  tell 
— that  he,  for  one,  would  see  you  to-day.  And  when 
my  companions  saw  my  surprise  and  anger  they  told 
me  more — things  it  seemed  impossible  I  had  not  heard, 
or  known,  or  approved.  They  could  not  believe  I  knew 
so  little.  I  was  furious  with  them  all.  I  made  inquir- 
ies everywhere.  I  came  here  doubting  my  own  sister, 
believing  she  had  helped  you  in  your  shameful  doings. 
And  I  find  her  as  astounded  as  myself.  I  thought  you 
both  simple,  innocent  girls:  I  have  discoverec1  you  to 
be  as  fast  as  the  lowest  chorus  girls." 

"Oh,  Father,  no — "  cried  Rachel,  her  sobs  bursting 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      151 

out  afresh.  "I  didn't  mean  any  harm  really.  It's  Zoe 
who — who — " 

"Yes,  I  know  Zoe  has  misled  you,"  he  interrupted, 
glancing  at  Zoe's  sullen  face.  "I  know  that  I  mis- 
placed my  trust  in  her  and  that,  as  her  life  has  been 
less  sheltered  than  yours,  she  could  not  be  so  ignorant 
of  the  ways  of  the  world.  But  you  are  not  free  from 
blame.  You  deceived  your  aunt  and  me.  You  have 
behaved  as  no  nice  girl  should — no  girl  of  mine,  at  any 
rate." 

"I  saw  no  harm,"  began  Zoe. 

"Yet  you  have  taught  my  daughter  things  she  never 
knew.  Your  conversation  is  about  things  and  people 
one  usually  ignores,  at  least,  so  I  have  just  heard  from 
Miss  Jacob,"  he  added  quickly  as  she  glanced  in  amaze- 
ment from  him  to  Rachel.  "Your  knowledge  of 
Madame  Dardino's  private  affairs  proves  that —  You 
lie  as  easily  as  you  tell  the  truth;  you  have  made 
Rachel's  name  a  byword  in  men's  clubs." 

"That  isn't  true,"  she  cried,  "if  her  name  is  that, 
it  was  so  before  I  came,  I'm  sure  of  it.  I  haven't  done 
anything  worse  than  she  has,  and  she  knew  Gustave 
Boissier  first — " 

"Even  if  it  is  so,  you  have  done  nothing  to  prevent 
the  acquaintance  or  to  make  her  change  her  ways.  Yet 
you  must  have  known  what  she,  baby  as  she  is,  although 
only  a  few  months  younger  than  yourself,  could  never 
have  dreamed  of." 

"I  have  told  her  nothing,  it  is  she — " 

"Just  so.  You  have  told  her  nothing  to  show  her 
she  did  wrong,  if  she  did.  Which  I  doubt,  as  your 
name  is  coupled  with  hers — in  all  I'm  told.  As  for 
this  man  Boissier  he  has  a  shocking  reputation  both 
here  and  in  his  country,  the  police  have  been  watch- 
ing him  for  some  time.  He  is  the  last  man  in  the  world 
to  go  out  with  alone,  and  it  is  only  by  mere  chance 


152  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

that  you  are  safe  within  these  walls  now.  Here,  so 
close  to  France  you  might  have  disappeared  for  ever 
from  your  friends — " 

"He  isn't  that  kind  of  man!  He's  really  nice.  And 
we  were  not  the  only  ones  out  either,  and  I  see  no 
harm  in — " 

"That's  enough.  You  will  not  see  Gustave  Boissier 
again  whilst  you  are  in  my  charge. ' ' 

"I  don't  want  to — "  she  faltered,  recalling  the  thrill 
of  fear  Gustave  had  roused  in  her  and  wondering  if 
what  she  heard  was  true.  What  had  he  done  to  be 
wanted  by  the  police?  How  white  and  shocked  Aunt 
Lena  looked.  And  Rachel — no  longer  pretty  with  her 
tear-stained  face,  what  a  mean  little  sneak  she  was !  As 
for  this  man,  whom  she  had  thought  kind,  he  was  as 
unjust  and  unfair  as  every  one  else  she  had  known — 

"I  have  written  to  your  mother  whilst  I  was  waiting 
for  you,"  he  was  saying,  "and  I  told  her  that  you  are 
returning  home  to-morrow.  Miss  Jacob  will  take  you 
to  town  by  the  ten  thirty  and  see  you  into  the  train  for 
Dunsworth,  where  I  have  asked  Mrs.  Dereham  to  meet 
you—" 

She  listened  with  anger  surging  in  her  heart.  She 
would  not  go  to  Dunsworth.  She  would  stay  in  town. 
How  dared  he  treat  her  like  a  baby  when  he  had  just 
told  her  she  was  not  one. 

"And  now  you  had  better  go  to  bed,"  he  said  as  he 
opened  the  door  and  stood  aside  for  her  to  pass.  But 
she  hesitated,  filled  with  a  sudden  desire  to  defend  her- 
self, an  overwhelming  reluctance  to  be  dismissed  like 
that. 

"Are  you — sending  me  away?"  she  faltered,  a  lump 
rising  in  her  throat. 

"I  must.  You  are  not  a  suitable  companion  for 
Rachel.  But — you  need  not  be  afraid,  you  shall  have 
a  quarter's  salary  in  lieu  of  notice,  and — 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      153 

"It  isn't  that,"  she  retorted  quickly,  her  face  aflame. 
"It's  the  disgrace  I  mean,  and — and  I  don't  know  what 
my  mother  will  say.  I  only  met  him  by  accident — 
really — and  I — I — " 

She  glanced  at  Rachel,  hoping  for  some  word  from 
her;  at  Aunt  Lena.  Both  sat  like  graven  images,  their 
faces  devoid  of  expression,  their  eyes  intent  on  Mr. 
Jacob. 

"You  should  have  thought  of  all  this  before,"  he 
said. 

"But— I— I—" 

"There  is  no  reason  why  we  should  disturb  the 
whole  hotel.  Most  people  are  in  bed." 

The  door  closed  silently  in  her  face,  and  she  stood 
alone  in  the  dim  corridor.  Waves  of  fury  flowed 
over  her;  a  longing  to  throw  herself  against  the  closed 
door  and  beat  on  it  with  her  fists,  to  scream  aloud  and 
proclaim  Rachel  a  sneak,  Aunt  Lena  a  coward,  Mr. 
Jacob  an  unjust  bully,  held  her  motionless  until  reason 
awoke  slowly  in  her  mind. 

"Obey,"  it  said,  "you  gain  nothing  by  resistance. 
YOU  wanted  to  leave,  anyhow.  Raynor  will  help  you." 

But  Miss  Jacob  was  going  to  take  her  to  town;  to 
see  her  into  the  Dunsworth  train.  At  Dunsworth  her 
mother  would  meet  her — and  all  the  old  struggle  would 
begin  again,  unless — she  could  find  some  way  of  escape. 

She  could  hardly  drag  herself  along  to  her  room, 
where  with  a  low  cry  of  dispair  she  flung  herself  upon 
her  bed  and  burst  into  tears. 

It  was  cruel,  cruel,  cruel!  Everything  was  against 
her,  every  one! 

Mad  thoughts  clamored  in  her  brain.  She  would 
do  something  desperate  to  make  them  all  sorry  and 
ashamed.  Throw  herself  into  the  sea,  or  from  the  win- 
dow— creeping  down  and  out  when  all  was  silent  in  the 
house.  And  in  the  morning  they  would  find  her  gone, 


154  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

the  bed  unslept  in  and  no  letter  left  to  say  what  she 
had  done. 

Presently — presently,  she  would  get  up  and  go. 

But  Fate  was  against  her  even  then.  For  sleep  fell 
upon  her  as  she  waited  for  the  hushed  silence  of  a  sleep- 
ing house.  She  awoke  to  find  the  morning  far  ad- 
vanced, somebody  knocking  at  her  door  and  the  journey 
to  town  with  Miss  Jacob  quite  unavoidable. 

But  all  the  way  up  her  brain  worked  hard,  twisting 
and  turning  every  thought  of  escape  possible,  until  the 
express  steamed  finally  into  its  goal. 

They  had  hardly  spoken  throughout  the  journey. 
Miss  Jacob  had  a  headache  and  looked  ill.  The  shock 
of  her  brother's  anger,  and  discovery,  had  indeed  upset 
her  and  although  he  had  not  blamed  her,  after  the  first 
moment  of  their  meeting,  she  reproached  herself  deeply 
for  what  had  occurred.  She  felt  sorry  for  Zoe,  judg- 
ing by  the  look  in  her  eyes,  the  expression  of  her  face, 
but  the  girl's  sullenness  evidently  put  her  off.  Besides, 
although  she  thought  her  brother  had  been  unduly 
severe,  she  did  not  believe  Zoe  as  ignorant  of  the  mean- 
ing of  her  words  and  deeds  as  she  felt  quite  sure  their 
Rachel  was.  Therefore  she  approved  of  the  dismissal 
before  any  further  contamination  could  take  place,  and 
felt  that  the  responsibility  of  Zoe  was  more  than  she 
could  undertake,  and  that  she  would  only  breathe 
freely  again  when  she  had  seen  her  in  charge  of  the 
guard  enrobe  for  Dunsworth.  So  much  she  conveyed 
in  the  little  she  said,  and  it  is  possible  she  thought  that 
if  Zoe  resumed  her  bad  ways  it  would  no  longer  be  their 
concern. 

They  should  have  reached  Charing  Cross  in  time  to 
catch  the  Dunsworth  train  a  few  minutes  later,  but, 
owing  to'  some  delay  in  getting  Zoe's  luggage,  they 
missed  it  and  found  the  next  was  not  due  for  nearly  an 
hour. 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      155 

"Well  have  some  refreshment  and  go  to  the  waiting- 
room,"  said  Miss  Jacob,  after  sending  a  wire  to  Mrs. 
Dereham  explaining  what  had  happened. 

"Why  need  you  wait  at  all?"  asked  Zoe,  with  a 
glimmer  of  hope  that  she  might  be  left  alone.  "If  I'm 
not  to  be  trusted  to  get  into  the  train,  I  can't  be  to 
travel  by  it." 

"I  have  promised  my  brother  that  I  would  see  you 
off  and  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  breaking  my  word," 
retorted  Miss  Jacob  as  she  led  the  way  into  the  refresh- 
ment room  and  ordered  two  cups  of  coffee. 

"But  I'm  not  going  home  all  the  same,"  mused  Zoe, 
glancing  around  and  wondering  if  she  dared  make  a 
dash  for  liberty.  The  odds  were,  she  decided,  too  much 
against  her  and  there  would  be  a  bother  about  her  lug- 
gage; she  must  keep  that  with  her  wherever  she  went. 
Well,  she  would  escape  somehow,  sooner  or  later,  mean- 
while she  must  throw  as  much  dust  as  possible  in  Aunt 
Lena's  eyes  and  trust  to  luck. 

So  she  listened  quietly  to  a  little  lecture  on  duty 
which  reminded  her  of  Madame  Delorme  and  all  the 
disagreeable  people  she  had  known;  and  wondered  if 
Rachel  would  get  the  same  sort  of  thing  from  her  father 
as  they  went  their  way  to  Eastbourne  where  Miss  Jacob 
was  to  join  them.  So  much  she  had  managed  to  get  out 
of  the  little  woman  during  the  journey,  for  she  had  not 
seen  Rachel  that  morning  and  only  Mr.  'Jacob  for  a  few 
minutes  before  she  left. 

He  had  given  her  an  envelope  containing  a  cheque 
for  fifty  pounds,  and  her  mind  had  been  so  full  of  de- 
light at  having  such  a  huge  sum  of  her  own,  that  she 
had  barely  heeded  his  solemn  warning  words.  It  was  a 
fortune!  It  would  keep  her  for  quite  a  long  time, 
whether  Mr.  Raynor  helped  her  or  not.  And  it  made 
her  independent  of  her  mother! 

She  kept  on  telling  herself  these  things  long  after 


156      THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

they  had  settled  down  in  the  ladies'  room.  Telling  her- 
self that  even  if  she  went  all  the  way  to  Dunsworth  she 
could  come  straight  back  and  go  to  the  rooms  in  Beau- 
mont street,  Bert  Lindon  had  told  her  about. 

But,  to  avoid  a  scene  with  her  mother,  it  would  be 
better  to  turn  back  at  one  of  the  stations  along  the  line 
and  me,et  her  only  when  she  could  say:  "See,  I  am 
paying  my  way  here  and  need  never  cost  you  a  farth- 
ing." No  poor  mother  would  be  so  foolish  as  to  dash 
the  cup  from  her  child's  lips  then! 

Yes — she  would  jump  out  at  the  first  station  and 
evade  the  guard  or  hoax  him.  And  back  to  London  it 
would  be  Miss  Jacob,  for  all  your  talk  of  duty  to  an 
unjust  brother  or  a  naughty  erring  girl ! 

The  room  was  close  and  full.  Women  came  and 
went.  She  caught  a  tantalizing  glimpse  of  a  busy  plat- 
form each  time  the  door  swung  round.  She  was  tired 
of  sitting  and  longed  for  air.  Surely  Miss  Jacob  would 
not  mind  if  she  stood  near  the  door. 

She  turned  to  ask  her.  And  her  heart  seemed  to 
bound  into  her  mouth  at  what  she  saw.  Miss  Jacob  was 
fast  asleep! 

Here  was  the  chance  she  had  been  longing  for — her 
chance  of  escape. 

No  one  noticed  her  as  she  crept  through  the  swinging 
door  and  darted  towards  a  porter,  exclaiming,  as  she 
held  out  a  cloak  room  ticket : 

"Please  get  me  this  trunk  at  once — I'm  in  a  hurry." 

"Yes,  Miss,  what  train?" 

"None.    I  want  a  taxi." 

"You  get  one  outside,  and  I'll  bring  this  along." 

She  watched  him  anxiously  as  he  hurried  off.  Sup- 
posing Miss  Jacob  waylaid  him!  Supposing — 

But  she  was  going  to  suppose  nothing.  Miss  Jacob 
was  still  asleep.  She  would  only  wake  up  when  it  did 
not  matter  at  all.  She  was  asleep. 


THE  LURE  OP  THE  FLAME      157 

But  no!  There  she  was,  running  to  and  fro,  with  a 
bewildered  look  upon  her  face!  She  must  have  heen 
pretending  to  sleep — she  must — Heavens!  She  was 
coming — no,  she  had  turned  again,  without  seeing  the 
porter  who  was  bringing  the  trunk  as  fast  as  he  could 
run. 

With  a  little  prayer  for  help  Zoe  darted  through 
to  the  front  of  the  station  like  a  mouse  into  its  hole. 
But  at  the  same  moment  Miss  Jacob  had  turned,  seen 
her,  and  darted  after — like  a  cat  intent  on  prey. 

"Stop  porter! — Stop,  driver!  This  young  lady  is 
with  me!"  she  cried,  as  she  emerged  just  in  time  to  see 
Zoe's  box  hoisted  on  to  the  taxi  and  Zoe  about  to  get  in. 

Zoe,  determined  to  stake  her  all,  glanced  from  one 
man  to  the  other  appealingly. 

"It  isn't  true,"  she  said,  "I  have  nothing  to  do  with 
her.  She  wants  me  to  go  where  I  don't  want  to.  She's 
nothing  to  me — nothing."  She  paused,  overcome  as 
the  porter  pushed  Miss  Jacob  back  and  looked  ambigu- 
ously at  the  driver,  who  grinned  from  ear  to  ear. 

"Zoe,  you  wicked  girl — "  began  Miss  Jacob,  strug- 
gling to  get  at  her — but  unable  to  move  the  porter's 
brawny  arm  as  he  held  it  out  to  bar  the  way,  whilst 
Zoe  jumped  quickly  in. 

"All  right,  M'm,"  he  soothed,  "don't  you  worry. 
The  young  lady's  all  right — which  is  more  than  you'll 
be  when  the  sergeant  comes  along." 

He  beckoned  a  burly  policeman  as  he  spoke,  nodded 
to  the  driver,  closed  the  cab  door,  smiling  in  upon  Zoe 
as  she  dropped  her  tip  into  his  hand, — and  turned  again 
to  Miss  Jacob  who  was  gesticulating  angrily. 

And  that  was  the  last  Zoe  ever  saw  of  her,  though  she 
often  longed  to  know  what  had  really  happened  and 
was  puzzled  for  many  a  day  as  to  the  facility  with 
which  she  had  got  off.  Some  porters,  she  felt  sure, 
would  have  given  her  up  at  once — some  drivers  would 


158      THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

have  refused  to  take  her.  She  could  only  believe  that 
these  kind  of  men  had  been  more  sorry  for  beauty  in 
distress  than  for  its  bugbear  in  pursuit.  Anyhow  she 
was  safe  now — in  Beaumont  Street  and  the  new  life  it 
spelled,  no  longer  in  the  dim  future. 

Having  got  over  her  fear  of  pursuit,  by  the  time  she 
reached  the  post  office,  in  Regent  street,  she  stopped  the 
cab  and  went  in. 

"  Quite  safe — not  coming — will  write — "  were  the 
words  of  the  telegram  she  sent  to  her  mother,  and  then, 
seized  with  a  sudden  impulse  she  sent  another  to  the 
Jacob  house  in  Kensington  where  Miss  Jacob  was  going 
for  the  night. 

"Sorry — had  to  do  it — won't  go  home — safe — " 
And  so  ended  the  episode,  with  the  feeling  that  if  she 
had  given  a  lot  of  trouble  she  had  certainly  made 
amends. 

A  tall  man  was  standing  with  his  back  to  her,  as  she 
handed  the  forms  across  the  counter.  But  there  was 
a  look  of  familiarity  about  him  which  roused  her  curi- 
osity and  made  her  delay  her  going,  by  asking  for 
stamps. 

"Is  it — is  it  not?"  she  was  asking  herself  as  she 
dropped  the  change  into  her  purse,  keeping  her  eyes  on 
the  well  poised  head  with  its  crisp  fair  hair — "It 
is!" 

Yes — it  was  Roy  Keith,  at  last!  As  he  turned  and 
regarded  her,  recognition  jumped  to  his  blue  eyes  and 
he  exclaimed: 

"Little  Zoe!" 

"Mr.  Keith!" 

"Fancy  you  remembering  me,  like  that!"  he  mur- 
mured, his  voice  a  caress,  as  he  held  her  hand. 

1 '  And  you ! ' '  she  laughed,  ' '  remembering  me ! " 

"There's  nothing  wonderful  in  that,"  he  retorted 
quickly,  pushing  the  envelope  he  had  been  stamping 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      159 

under  the  grille  and  nodding  to  the  clerk,  "I  should 
have  known  you  anywhere." 

"And  I,  you,"  faltered  Zoe,  her  cheeks  red,  as  they 
passed  out  into  the  street  together.  "Such  heaps  of 
things  have  happened  since  we  met,  and — " 

"You  went  back  and  faced  the  music  I  remember." 

"Yes — but  I  was  expelled  all  the  same." 

"Poor  little  girl!" 

"Oh,  I  didn't  mind  that, — here's  my  taxi." 

"Are  you  going  away?"  he  asked. 

"No.  I've  just  come  to  London — to  stay!  I'm  go- 
ing to  rooms  in  Beaumont  Street." 

"Good.  I'm  going  that  way  too,  wherever  it  is. 
Can  you  give  me  a  lift  and  tell  me  all  about  yourself?" 

Her  eyes  sparkled  as  he  opened  the  door.  She  saw 
the  driver  look  round  inquiringly.  Of  course  he  be- 
lieved he  now  knew  why  she  had  run  away  by  herself, 
why  she  had  made  him  stop  here.  Perhaps  he  would 
see  the  porter  and  tell  him  that  they  had  both  a  hand 
in  a  romance — that  the  gentleman  she  went  to  meet  was 
very  smart — a  lover  worthy  of  the  name,  of  any  woman 
in  the  land! 

"I  was  just  wishing  I  could  see  somebody  I  knew," 
she  said  as  she  settled  into  her  corner,  "London's  a 
dreadful  place  for  making  one  feel  lonely — and  insig- 
nificant. But  do  tell  me  about  Mr.  Hales.  I  often 
wonder  if  I  did  the  best  thing  in  obeying  him." 

"Oh,  I'm  sure  you  did!  Old  Hales  is  always  right. 
He's  a  jolly  good  sort,  if  a  bit  too  saintly  for  a  sinner 
like  myself.  He  takes  life  too  seriously,  poor  chap,  and 
is  slumming  now  with  some  mistaken  notion  of  helping 
those  who  will  not  help  themselves,  except  to  other 
people's  belongings." 

But  Zoe  was  not  listening,  although  her  eyes  were 
on  his  face.  For  she  was  telling  herself  that  the 
Prince  had  come  at  last! 


CHAPTER  XIII 

•  • 

ZOB  did  not  tell  the  whole  truth  to  Roy  Keith;  she 
was  too  afraid  he  might  advise  her  to  go  home. 
Moreover  she  was  too  excited  to  talk  coherently,  too 
eager  for  what  was  before  to  dilate  on  what  was  behind. 
Sufficient  that  she  had  left  one  post  that  morning  to 
take  another,  and  that  she  was  going  to  rooms  she  had 
heard  of.  The  post? —  Well,  she  was  really  going  on 
the  stage.  She  had  one  or  two  friends  there  and  they 
could  help.  And  she  was  going  to  have  dancing  lessons 
with  the  great  Leonora.  She  charged  a  lot — but  there 
would  be  no  trouble  about  that. 

He  listened  with  interest,  asked  few  questions,  sug- 
gested that  the  life  had  its  drawbacks  and  wondered 
why  her  people  let  her  take  it  up.  Well,  why  not? 
She  had  to  live  and  she  had  tried  teaching,  which  at  one 
time  was  the  only  thing  a  lady  could  do — and  she  hated 
it  and  everything  connected  with  it.  Didn't  he  know 
any  nice  actresses  then? 

Of  course,  only — he  wouldn't  like  his  sister  to  be  one. 
And  she  was  older,  and  less  pretty,  and  quite  able  to 
take  care  of  herself  anywhere.  And  so,  he  was  sorry, 
that  was  all,  and  as  she  was  such  a  baby  he  might  as  well 
go  as  far  as  Beaumont  Street,  in  case  they  could  not 
take  her  in  and  she  had  to  go  elsewhere.  Wasn't  she  a 
baby? — Well,  no — she  was  a  dear  sweet  little  girl  and 
he  loved  to  be  with  her. 

So  he  waited  in  the  taxi  whilst  she  went  in  and  inter- 
viewed a  tall  fair  woman,  whose  trim  appearance  im- 
pressed her  favorably  as  she  stated  what  she  wanted. 

From  the  sitting-room  window  she  could  see  into  the 

160 


THE  LURE  OP  THE  FLAME      161 

cab,  and  her  heart  thrilled  with  delight  as  she  caught 
a  glimpse  of  Roy's  smiling  face. 

"Do  you  want  the  rooms  for  yourself,  only?"  asked 
the  woman,  following  the  direction  of  her  glance  with  a 
shrewd  look  in  her  eyes. 

"Of  course,"  said  Zoe,  looking  surprised. 

"You  must  forgive  my  asking,  but  I  saw  the  gentle- 
man in  the  cab  and  thought  he  might  be  coming  with 
you." 

"Oh,  dear  no!    Of  course  he  isn't!" 

"I  don't  see  any  of  course  about  it.  Leastways  if 
he's  your — husband." 

"But  he  isn't!"  laughed  Zoe,  blushing  hotly.  "He's 
only  a — a  very  old  friend." 

"Yes,"  nodded  the  woman,  with  a  nasty  smile, 
"they're  all  that,  I  know!" 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean!"  exclaimed  the  girl, 
her  face  full  of  astonishment,  her  anger  rising.  "At 
any  rate  it  doesn't  matter  to  you — if  I  pay  your  rent 
and—" 

"Oh,  yes,  it  does.  This  house  is  a  respectable 
one!" 

Zoe  stared.  Although  she  could  not  understand 
what  the  creature  meant,  she  could  not  mistake  the  in- 
solence of  face  and  tone,  and  a  wave  of  fury  swept 
over  her  as  she  turned  into  the  hall,  exclaiming  in- 
dignantly : 

"You  are  a  very  rude  woman.  And  I  wouldn't 
dream  of  coming  here,  although  I  might  have  done  so 
if  you  had  kept  a  civil  tongue  in  your  head.  Good 
morning. ' ' 

She  pulled  the  door  open  and  made  for  the  taxi,  say- 
ing, as  Keith  stepped  out : 

"It's  no  good.  The  woman's  horrid,  and  the  rooms 
are  beastly." 

"Jump  in  then,  and  I'll  take  you  to  some  I  know. 


162  THE  LURE  OP  THE  FLAME 

And  then  we'll  lunch  together.  Oh,  never  mind  my  ap- 
pointment— it  can  wait.  Go  to  110  Berners  Street, 
driver.  And  now  isn't  it  a  good  thing  I  waited?"  he 
added  as  he  sat  down,  and  the  cab  turned  smartly 
round. 

"Indeed  it  is!"  said  Zoe,  still  ruffled.  "For  one 
thing,  if  you  hadn't  been  with  me  the  woman  might 
not  have  shown  herself  in  her  true  colors,  and  I  should 
have  taken  her  rooms  to  regret  it  ever  after." 

"What  did  she  say?" 

"It  wasn't  so  much  what  she  said,  as  her  nasty  looks. 
But  I'm  glad  I  found  her  out  at  once — " 

"What  did  she  say,  little  Zoe?" 

"Oh,  she  had  the  cheek  to  ask  who  you  were,  just 
because  she  saw  you  there.  And  when  I  said  it  didn't 
matter  to  her  she  said  her  house  was  respectable,  as 
though  that  had  anything  to  do  with  it — " 

"What  a  meddlesome  old  cat!"  exclaimed  Keith, 
looking  so  earnestly  into  her  face  that  she  felt  her 
color  rise.  "And  such  a  thing  to  say!" 

"Yes— wasn't  it!" 

"Never  mind.  You  won't  find  Biddy  Toogood  like 
that!  She's  a  dear  old  soul,  and  the  last  to  throw 
suspicion  on  my  respectability." 

"Oh,  but  she  couldn't  have  meant  that!"  she  said, 
with  a  look  of  such  concern  that  he  burst  out  laughing 
and  exclaimed: 

"Are  you  quite  sure  of  that?" 

"Of  course!  She's  one  of  those  proper  people  who 
hate  men,  and  was  shocked  at  my  being  with  one  I'm 
sure." 

"Even  with  me,  little  Zoe?" 

"Yes.  Even  with  you.  She  was,  you  see.  I  knew 
that  was  what  she  really  meant  because  I'm  used  to 
people  with  such  ideas.  Even  if  there  were  any  wrong 
in  it  they  make  you  want  to  do  wrong  rather  than  grow 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      163 

like  them.    It  wasn't  you  she  was  hitting  at,  it  was 
me." 

"Anyhow,  I'm  very  grateful  to  her  because  she  has 
given  me  the  chance  of  helping  you — and  shown  me  also 
what  a  real  baby  you  really  are!" 

"I  don't  see  how  you  can  say  that?"  pouted  Zoe. 
"I  do,  though.     Now  look  here,  after  we  have  inter- 
viewed Biddy  Toogood — she's  an  old  friend  of  mine  is 
Biddy — and  left  your  luggage  in  her  care,  we'll  go  out 
to  lunch,  and  then — " 
"Then  I  must  look  up  Mr.  Raynor — " 
"Who's  he?" 

"He's  one  of  the  friends  who  are  going  to  help  me 
with  the  stage." 

"Oh — and  then  what  are  you  going  to  do?" 
"I  shall  see  Leonora  and  arrange  about  my  lessons." 
"Good.     And  then  what  is  little  Zoe  going  to  do?" 
"Work — and  go   to   agents — and  practice  singing — 
and — oh,  I  shall  have  plenty  to  do,  Mr.  Keith.    You 
have  to  work  hard  on  the  stage." 
"You'll  let  me  call  round  to  see  you  sometimes?" 
"If  you  want  to." 

"And  fetch  you  from  the  theater  at  night?" 
"If  you  don't  mind  waiting  at  the  stage  door.     I 
don't  think  they'd  let  you  in  really — at  least — not — " 
"I've  heard  they're  just  as  particular  as  the  lady  in 
Beaumont    Street,"   he   smiled.    "But   I    don't   mind 
waiting  on  the  curb  if  you  don't  keep  me  too  long. 
Some  other  pretty  actress  might  run  off  with  me  then, 
and  where  would  you  be?" 
"I  could  manage  quite  well,  thank  you." 
"You  wouldn't  mind  being  left  alone?" 
"I  would  rather,  if  you  did  that  sort  of  thing!"  she 
retorted  quickly,  her  eyes  flashing.     But  in  her  heart 
stirred  the  thought  that  she  would  never  forgive  the 
girl  who  took  him  from  her.    Never!    If  Rachel  came 


164  THE  LURE  OP  THE  FLAME 

along  and  cast  her  languishing  eyes  on  him — df — the 
mere  thought  of  it  was  horrible  and  she  turned  her  head 
away,  lest  he  should  read  it  in  her  face. 

A  month  later  she  sat  in  her  room,  in  the  house  at 
Berners  Street,  writing  a  letter  to  her  mother. 

The  room  had  fewer  of  the  faults  in  taste  and  furni- 
ture than  most  rooms  of  its  type  and  the  quality,  rare 
in  all,  of  scrupulous  cleanliness.  It  opened  into  a  small 
bedroom  hung  with  the  old  chintz  curtains — the  dress- 
ing table  stiff  with  a  glazed  pink  petticoat  veiled  in 
pin  muslin — which  Mrs.  Toogood  had  brought  from  her 
country  home. 

Now  and  then  Zoe  raised  her  head  to  sniff  at  the 
flowers  Keith  had  sent,  and  smile  at  his  photograph 
which  she  had  propped  up  in  front  of  her.  Through 
the  window  came  the  voices  of  the  people  passing  along 
the  street,  the  rumble  of  a  van,  the  hoot  or  purr  of  a 
motor,  and  the  sharp  tang  of  the  March  wind. 

She  wrote  quickly,  a  little  frown  puckering  her  brow : 

"I  am  so  sorry  you  are  not  well  enough  to  come  to 
London.  But  please  don't  ask  me  to  come  to  Duns- 
worth.  "When  I  came  the  other  day  I  met  all  those 
horrid  Broome-Taylors  with  their  dreadful  teeth,  on  my 
way  to  the  station.  And  on  the  platform  I  ran  into  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Wood.  I  'm  sure  he  meant  to  preach  to  me  but 
she  was  afraid  of  my  coming  near  her — the  old  fruinp. 
And  I  used  to  admire  them  both!  Besides,  I'm  going 
to  be  busy  at  last.  To-morrow  I  see  Mr.  Deller — the 
great  musical  comedy  man  who  owns  most  of  the  best 
theaters.  Leonora  says  he's  sure  to  engage  me.  So 
there's  a  chance!  Much  more  than  I  could  ever  get  if 
I  had  kept  to  governessing  or  going  about  with  a  fast 
little  Jewess  like  Rachel.  I'm  so  glad  you  didn't  be- 
lieve their  story  and  stuck  up  for  me.  I  learnt  heaps 
of  dreadful  things  from  her.  And  it's  sweet  of  you  to 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      165 

give  in  about  the  stage.  I  know  you  don't  really  like 
the  idea  but  I'm  sure  you'll  be  glad  enough  some  day. 
When  I'm  earning  pounds  a  week  you  must  give  up 
that  nasty  teaching  and  come  and  live  with  me.  And 
I'll  give  you  all  the  things  you  have  done  without  for 
years,  and  we'll  always  be  jolly.  For  your  Zoe  does 
love  you  in  spite  of  what  you  say,  but  even  for  you  she 
can't  give  up  what  she  knows  is  her  true  vocation. 

"And  some  day  who  knows  what  will  happen!  Other 
girls  have  had  luck  all  round,  why  shouldn  't  I  ? " 

She  paused  as  she  wrote  that  and  smiled  again  at 
Keith's  photograph.  What  a  dear  he  was! 

If  she  did  not  mention  him  it  was  merely  because  she 
did  not  want  to  upset  her  mother,  and  make  her  think 
she  was  the  flirt  those  horrid  Jacobs  made  out. 

But  some  day — what  a  surprise  for  the  shabby  little 
lady  at  Dunsworth!  And  what  a  surprise  for  Duns- 
worth  itself  when  it  heard  of  her  engagement  to  Roy 
Keith,  whose  family  was  better  than  any  of  theirs  and 
who  was  heir  to  his  uncle  Sir  Jasper  Keith.  Wouldn't 
they  toady  then?  And  wouldn't  it  be  great  to  spurn 
and  ignore  them? 

All  the  same  the  month  had  held  disillusion  in  more 
ways  than  one.  Although  Leonora  had  taken  her  as  a 
pupil — charging  a  guinea  each  lesson  instead  of  two, 
because  she  was  a  friend  of  Mr.  Raynor's — she  did  not 
enthuse  about  her.  In  fact  she  found  herself  totally 
eclipsed  by  three  other  girls  whose  limbs  were  like  india- 
rubber,  and  whose  toetips  were  so  hardened  that  the 
agony  she  suffered  with  hers  was  but  a  long-forgotten 
nightmare  to  them.  Moreover  her  back  ached  con- 
stantly and  the  steps,  and  gestures,  she  had  been  so 
proud  of  drew  nothing  but  reproof. 

Thus  she  learnt  the  hard  lesson  of  her  insignificance 
and  mediocrity,  and  came  to  see  that  she  was  not  won- 
derful in  any  way,  nor  ever  likely  to  become  so.  But 


166      THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

she  was  too  obstinate  to  acknowledge  that  openly,  and 
argued  that,  if  so  many  succeeded  who  were  barely 
mediocre,  there  was  no  need  for  discouragement. 
Rachel  had  said  that  a  girl  could  make  any  man  she 
fancied  fall  in  love  with  her — well  then,  surely  that 
belief  was  applicable  in  another  sense — a  girl  could 
make  herself  as  great  as  she  wished  to  be.  She  meant 
to — at  all  events.  It  was  not  always  talent  that  came 
to  the  front. 

So  she  took  Raynor's  cards  to  various  managers  and 
visited  the  agencies,  merely  to  discover  that  although 
influence  can  do  a  great  deal  it  cannot  do  as  much  as 
she  thought  it  would. 

The  theatrical  manager  of  repute  is  above  all  a  good 
business  man — and  sentiment  has  no  place  in  business. 
He  is  also  a  connoisseur  of  women — as  astute  in  spot- 
ting their  good  points,  the  capacity  for  success  and 
popularity,  as  he  is  sharp  in  detecting  their  slightest 
flaw  or  weakness.  Zoe  was  prettier  than  most  girls  but 
that  was  not  sufficient  for  him.  And  the  theatrical 
agent  being  just  as  knowing,  she  was  put  off  with  the 
promise  of  work  next  time. 

For  Raynor  had  been  careful  where  he  sent  her,  so 
that  she  met  with  none  of  the  vulgar  familiarity,  the 
veiled  suggestions  and  insulting  looks  one  reads  about 
in  most  stories  of  this  kind.  She  had  nothing  to  com- 
plain of,  though  many  girls  could  perhaps  tell  a  differ- 
ent tale — others  too  might  resent  the  bald  glance  with 
which  she  was  summed  up,  the  free  and  almost  paternal 
mode  of  address.  Though  it  is  true  that  such  things 
exist,  it  is  also  true  that  all  the  world  over  evil  is  ex- 
ploited and  exaggerated,  looked  for  and  drawn  out, 
whilst  what  little  good  there  may  be  is  passed  unnoticed 
and  unrecognized — like  many  a  hero  in  the  battle  of 
life. 

And  just  as  Zoe  was  guided  by  one  who  knew  all  the 


167 

murkiness  of  the  stream,  she  wished  to  follow,  merely 
believing  its  waters  sweet  and  clean,  so  in  the  street  she 
was  protected  from  the  men  who  sought  to  follow  her — 
not  by  her  wish  to  elude  them,  with  their  unwelcome  ad- 
miration— rather  by  her  love  for  Keith. 

For  the  moment  he  dominated  her  so  completely  that 
she  was  with  him  like  clay  in  the  hands  of  the  potter, 
and  the  impression  he  made  lasted  long  after  he  had  left 
her.  But  he  never  spoke  of  love — seized  her  in  his 
arms  as  Buckell  had  done — attempted  to  kiss  her.  And 
she  burned  ardently  for  him  to  do  all  that  and  could 
not  understand  that  he  was  seemingly  indifferent  to  all 
her  blandishments  because  he  told  himself  that  she  was 
a  lonely  little  girl  who  trusted  him,  and  that  he  would 
be  a  swine  if  he  ever  forgot  it. 

But  is  was  clear  that  she  had  attracted  him;  that  he 
realized  how  easily  she  could  attract  others,  and  re- 
sented it;  that  he  never  ceased  to  wonder  how  her 
mother  could  consent  to  leave  her  in  such  an  entour- 
age as  that  of  the  theatrical  world.  He  thought  it  an 
outrage  to  dump  such  a  baby  down  in  that  milieu  he 
told  her  teasingly,  though  his  eyes  seemed  to  ask  if  she 
was  such  a  baby  after  all,  if  her  childish  ignorance  was 
genuine  ? 

And  as  he  got  to  know  her  better  his  manner  seemed 
to  change.  He  evinced  a  tolerance,  such  as  a  child  used 
to  expensive  toys,  might  show  for  one  of  inferior  make 
when  he  had  penetrated  its  showy  exterior. 

She  saw  him  every  day  and  counted  the  minutes  to 
his  coming.  She  never  saw  him  go  without  a  feeling 
of  desolation  and  the  fear  that  he  might  never  come 
again.  She  loved  his  presents — which  were  many — of 
flowers,  chocolates  and  other  trifles.  She  told  him  all 
her  little  troubles  with  Leonora,  who  had  scolded  her 
about  her  dancing,  and  the  stupid  short-sighted  people 
who  would  not  engage  her.  For  his  sake  she  tried 


168  THE  LURE  OP  THE  FLAME 

harder  than  she  had  ever  tried,  to  be  good.  She  was 
filled  with  a  sense  of  her  unworthiness,  a  belief  in  his 
saintliness  for  all  his  deprecation  of  himself.  Whether 
she  was  capable  of  a  lasting  love  or  not,  she  loved  him 
now  with  every  fiber  of  her  being,  and  the  uncertainty 
regarding  his  feelings  was  almost  more  than  she  could 
bear. 

She  slept  badly  in  consequence  and  was  irritable  and 
moody.  But  he  put  that  down  to  her  vain  search  for 
work  and,  as  she  reflected  hysterically,  offered  her  a 
stone  instead  of  bread — dissipation  instead  of  love! 

But  she  was  also  beginning  to  grow  anxious  about  her 
unemployment.  For  in  spite  of  her  seeming  wealth  at 
the  start  she  had  practically  nothing  left,  and  ended 
up  her  letter  by  asking  for  some  money. 

For  she  had  spent  hers  recklessly  at  first.  A  few  hats, 
one  or  two  gowns,  an  elaborate  evening  cloak,  silk  stock- 
ings and  smart  shoes,  not  to  mention  flimsy  underwear, 
had  run  away  with  far  more  than  she  imagined  when 
choosing  the  things  at  the  counter  in  the  showroom. 
Then  she  realized  only  that  she  wanted  the  article  in 
question  and  another — and  yet  another.  Many  women 
might  lose  their  heads  in  like  manner,  if  let  loose  in 
such  a  place  of  plenty  as  a  first  class  draper's  shop, 
only  to  recover  their  senses  when  the  purchase  was 
made  and  irrevocable.  And  Zoe  was  naturally  extrava- 
gant— moreover  she  had  no  sense  of  the  value  of  money, 
nor  could  she  do  mental  sums  so  that  the  ten  pounds  she 
had  set  out  to  spend  on  the  "absolutely  neceessary" 
clothing  for  her  new  vocation,  had  beeen  spent  more 
than  twice  over  before  she  realized  that  five  had  gone. 

Out  of  the  money  left  there  were  Leonora's  lessons, 
her  rooms,  her  keep  and  various  odds  and  ends.  She 
had  asked  her  mother  for  money  the  third  week,  and  it 
had  been  sent  without  one  word  of  reproof  or  warning, 
though  she  silenced  any  misgiving  she  felt  by  telling 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      169 

herself  that  her  mother  had  not  had  to  keep  her  for 
some  time  so  had  no  right  to  grumble  at  having  to  do 
so  now.  Yet  when  she  went  to  see  her,  her  heart  failed 
her  somewhat  as  she  set  eyes  on  the  thin  white  face  and 
emaciated  form.  And  she  could  not  quite  believe  that 
influenza  was  the  cause  of  such  a  change,  though  the 
most  assiduous  questioning,  as  to  pupils  and  lessons, 
elicited  nothing  else.  She  felt  quite  miserable  about  it 
for  a  day  or  two,  and  it  was  quite  as  much  because  of 
her  reluctance  to  see  her  again  as  because  of  her  hatred 
of  the  people  she  used  to  know,  that  she  did  not  want  to 
go  again. 

And  as  she  ran  down  to  post  her  letter  she  met  Mrs. 
Toogood,  a  cheery  old  soul  with  the  corkscrew  curls  one 
so  rarely  sees  and  bright  eyes  like  boot-buttons,  bring- 
ing a  note  up  to  her. 

"Who  brought  it?"  asked  Zoe,  tearing  it  open 
wonderingly,  for  the  writing  was  unknown. 

"Just  a  messenger  boy — he's  waiting  for  the  an- 
swer. ' ' 

It  was  from  an  acquaintance  of  Raynor's  a  Mrs. 
Desborough.  She  was  getting  up  a  concert  at  a  ladies' 
club  recently  started  in  Mayfair.  Would  Miss  Dere- 
ham  be  so  kind  as  to  help  them  by  doing  a  dance  or 
two — and  singing  Madame  Dardino's  songs?  Mr.  Ray- 
nor  said  she  was  a  very  good  substitute  and  Madame 
Dardino's  fees  were  too  prohibitive  for  a  poor  little 
fledgling  club  like  theirs.  Still,  there  would  be  a 
guinea  for  Miss  Dereham  and  the  concert  began  at  nine 
o'clock  that  night. 

"Yes — yes — yes — "  she  cried,  "tell  the  boy  the  an- 
swer is  'yes — with  pleasure!'  " 

"You'd  better  write  it,  Miss.  Boys  are  apt  to 
muddle  things." 

"Oh,  must  I — well,  perhaps  so.  It's  my  first  engage- 
ment, Mrs.  Biddy.  And  it  may  lead  to  hundreds — for 


170  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

it's  at  a  club  where  one  meets  crowds  of  influential 
people  who  give  parties  of  their  own.  And  I  'm  to  have 
a  guinea — isn't  it  jolly?" 

"I'm  sure  I'm  very  glad,  Miss.  It's  time  you  made 
a  start,  and  I  hope  you  keep  it  up — and  not  turn  back: 
My,  won't  Mister  Roy  be  glad  to  see  you  look  so 
pleased." 

Zoe  looked  thoughtful.  Roy  had  promised  to  dine 
with  her  and  take  her  to  a  theater  that  night.  He  had 
the  tickets.  But  of  course  duty  before  pleasure — that 
was  one  of  the  penalties  of  poverty.  And  in  a  way 
there  would  be  pleasure  in  this — she  longed  to  know 
what  these  club  ladies  would  say  about  her,  how  they 
would  look  when  they  saw  her  dance.  Leonora  might 
not  think  much  of  her — but  Raynor  evidently  did! 
And  perhaps  Roy  would  come  and  fetch  her,  come  and 
see  her  too.  Ah!  If  he  saw  her  then  would  he  be  so 
cold  afterwards? 

She  scrawled  a  hasty  reply  and  gave  the  boy  a  six- 
pence on  the  strength  of  the  guinea  she  was  to  receive. 
Further,  she  ordered  a  taxi  and  went  off  in  high  spirits 
when  the  time  came,  in  spite  of  Roy's  refusal  to  go 
into  the  club  as  an  uninvited  guest.. 

"But  you  wouldn't!"  she  had  exclaimed.  "You'd 
go  with  me  as — as  my  chaperon." 

"Rubbish — it  would  be  the  worst  thing  possible  for 
you." 

"Why?" 

"Because  pretty  young  girls  don't  go  about  like  that 
— unless — the  man  is  a  relative,  or — " 

"Yes?"  queried  Zoe  sweetly,  her  eyes  full  of  ex- 
pectancy. 

"Oh— damn.  Can't  you  understand,  Zoe?  You 
know  I'm  right.  That  it  isn't  done!" 

"Of  course  you're  right,"  she  faltered,  her  heart 
sinking  as  she  told  herself,  that  he  couldn't  love  her 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      171 

really  or  he  would  not  have  missed  such  a  chance  of 
telling  her  so. 

"Don't  say  it  like  that,  little  Zoe,  it  makes  me  feel 
a  brute  for  refusing.  But  even  if  I  could  it  wouldn't 
be  wise.  Some  one  I  know  might  be  there  and — and — " 

"You're  ashamed  of  being  seen  with  me?" 

"Don't  be  a  goosey.  I  merely  don't  want  a  lot  of 
silly  twaddle — my  uncle  is  very  pig-headed  about  some 
things,  and  one  is  my  being  seen  with  pretty  girls. 
He's  got  some  one  up  his  sleeve  for  me.  A  bloated 
grocer's  daughter,  fat  and  thirty  I  hear — and  although 
I  don't  mean  to  have  anything  to  do  with  the  lady 
there's  no  reason  why  I  should  upset  my  own  apple- 
cart." 

"Must  you  marry  her?" 

"No,  silly — of  course  not.  I'm  going  to  marry  a 
pretty  dainty  little  girl — Some  day,  but — " 

Zoe's  heart  beat  loud,  the  color  rushed  to  her  face 
She  felt  sure  she  knew  whom  he  meant — that  he  merely 
held  his  tongue  because  of  the  strict  uncle  and,  per- 
haps, her  youth.  Although  longing  for  him  to  say 
more  she,  in  the  contrary  way  of  women,  exclaimed 
hurriedly : 

"Oh — but  you  won't  see  me  dance!  And — I  so 
wanted  you  to." 

"Why  not?  I'm  done  out  of  your  company  at 
the  theater  so  I'm  going  to  insist  on  some  compensa- 
tion. You  shall  dance  to  me  here,  Zoe — before  you 
go.  So  hurry  up  old  Biddy  with  the  dinner  and  put 
on  your  finery." 

And  so  she  had  danced  for  him — putting  her  best 
into  the  song,  her  every  effort  into  the  dance — and — 
as  she  flung  aside  her  cloak  and  relaxed  her  lissome 
graceful  figure — in  the  tights  she  had  rushed  out  to 
buy  before  he  came — she  sprang  towards  him,  her 
hands  outstretched,  her  face  aglow. 


172  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

"Bravo!"  he  cried,  catching  her  to  him  and  cover- 
ing her  face  with  passionate  kisses. 

"At  last!"  sang  her  heart  as  she  clung  to  him, 
thrilling  with  delight. 

But  he  put  her  from  him  as  suddenly  as  he  had 
seized  her,  his  face  red  with  anger  against  himself. 

"Forgive  me — "  he  murmured.  "I  lost  my  head. 
You  are  such  a  witch — such  a  fascinating  little  devil!" 

She  laughed  more  to  cover  her  annoyance  than 
anything  else. 

"After  all — what  is  there  in  a  kiss?"  she  stam- 
mered. 

"Is  that  what  you  feel  about  it?" 

"Oh,  no,"  she  saw  he  expected  her  to  feel  some- 
thing— she  hardly  knew  what  though  in  her  heart  she 
felt  that  she  would  do  all  she  could  to  make  him  kiss 
her  again.  "Of  course  you  oughtn't  to  do  that  kind 
of  thing,  but — "  she  looked  invitingly  at  him  from  un- 
der her  long  lashes. 

"You  forgive  me — you  mean?"  he  asked,  drawing 
back  and  frowning  a  little. 

"Yes,  I  forgive  you." 

"That's  right —  Here,  put  on  your  cloak,  or  you 
may  catch  cold.  And — must  you  really  dance  in  those 
things?" 

"Of  course.  I'm  copying  Madame  Dardino.  Is 
there  anything  wrong  with  them?" 

"Nothing  wrong,  but — "  the  words  died  in  his  throat 
as  he  flung  out  of  the  room. 

She  clasped  her  hands  gleefully—  Didn't  this  mean 
that  he  loved  her?  That  she  really  was  the  little  girl 
he  wished  to  marry? 

And  although  he  did  not  return  that  is  why  she 
went  off  willingly  enough  without  him — her  heart 
singing  a  paean  of  delight.  Why  also  she  looked  more 
beautiful,  more  fascinating  than  ever  that  night.  Not 


THE  LURE  OP  THE  FLAME      173 

a  few  of  her  audience  were  spellbound.  But  whilst 
she  drank  in  their  admiration  greedily  and  laid  her- 
self out  to  rouse  it  afresh,  her  mind  was  full  of  the 
one  man  she  loved — and  whom  she  longed  passionately 
to  see  again.. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

•• 

ZOE  slept  well  that  night  and  woke  full  of  high 
sprits  and  physical  well-being.  Her  debut  at  the 
Club  had  been  most  successful  although  she  had  not 
found  the  inflential  audience  she  expected  nor  received 
the  promised  guinea. 

She  sang  snatches  of  her  songs  as  she  dressed,  smiled 
approvingly  at  her  reflection  in  the  mirror  and  won- 
dered when  Keith  would  call — and  whether  he  would 
kiss  her  then. 

The  memory  of  his  kisses  haunted  her — she  felt  them 
still  on  her  face,  her  eyes,  her  lips.  She  was  the  hap- 
piest girl  in  the  world  and  longed  to  proclaim  her  joy 
to  all  around.  For  although  she  recalled  his  frown, 
his  hurried  departure,  his  muttered,  broken  sentences, 
she  felt  sure  he  loved  her — that  his  strange  behavior 
was  a  sure  sign  of  that. 

So  she  set  off  gayly  for  her  interview  with  Deller  at 
the  Glorious  Theater,  discovering  beauties  she  had 
never  suspected  in  the  streets,  in  the  hurried  work-a- 
day  crowd,  in  the  noise  and  bustle  of  the  town.  She 
enjoyed  the  antics  of  the  crisp  wind  as  it  whipped  up 
the  color  of  the  faces  it  met,  frolicked  with  a  school- 
boy's cap  and  played  hide-and-seek  with  every  petti- 
coat. 

For  she  was  in  love,  and  everything  seemed  right. 
And  her  luck  had  turned.  With  last  night's  engage- 
ment had  come  the  promise  of  success.  Leonora 
might  call  her  mediocre,  or  just  above  the  average,  but 
the  world  would  be  kinder  than  she — wasn't  it  kind  now? 

174 


THE  LUBE  OF  THE  FLAME      175 

Even  the  wait  in  the  tiny  anteroom  did  not  distress 
her  as  it  might  have  done  yesterday.  Deller  was  a 
busy  man  and  could  not  be  expected  to  keep  appoint- 
ments to  the  minute.  Nor  was  she  the  only  one  kept 
waiting.  Here  was  Gracie  Long,  one  of  Leonora's  best 
pupils — a  girl  with  toes  as  hard  as  horn  and  limbs  like 
indiarubber. 

She  was  conscious  of  a  little  pang  of  annoyance 
when  she  saw  her  there — a  faint  fear  lest  she  should 
be  ousted  by  her.  But  that  soon  passed  off,  chased  by 
the  buoyant  hope  within  her  and  the  knowledge  that 
if  Gracie  was  a  splendid  dancer  she  had  neither  voice, 
nor  manner,  nor  much  in  the  way  of  looks. 

She  was  a  tall  slip  of  a  girl,  with  a  boyish,  graceful 
figure,  slim  hands  and  perfect  feet.  But  she  looked 
very  common — decked  out  in  flashy  finery,  her  tow- 
colored  hair  well  over  her  long  pointed  face,  her  bold 
eyes  bright  with  belladonna  and  blackened  lashes,  rouge 
and  powder  thick  upon  her  cheeks,  carmine  upon  her 
lips. 

No — recalling  her  dainty  appearance,  in  trim  tailor 
suit  and  simple  little  hat — Zoe  no  longer  feared  her.  So 
she  smiled  pleasantly  at  Gracie  and  listened  to  her 
chatter,  making  mental  notes  of  the  girl's  shrewd  say- 
ings, of  the  agents  she  mentioned,  whose  names  Ray- 
nor  must  have  overlooked. 

"You  try  Reuben  Moses  if  Deller  don't  engage  you," 
said  Gracie  good-naturedly.  "He  wants  girls  for  a 
company  he's  sending  to  Berlin.  Nellie  Dent — you 
know  her — is  going,  and  so  shall  I  if  I  don't  get  this." 

Zoe  hesitated.  Deller  would  engage  her!  She  felt 
it  in  her  bones,  in  the  clear  air,  the  glad  day.  But  she 
could  uot  say  so  to  this  girl  whose  vulgarity  could  not 
appeal  to  a  man  who  was  certainly  an  artist  in  his  own 
line.  For  she  had  not  yet  discovered  that  art  and 


176     THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

beauty  can  assume  refinement  without  possessing  it,  and 
that  a  certain  type  of  vulgarity  allied  to  talent  carries 
the  promise  of  success,  and  makes  good  for  whoever  ex- 
ploits it. 

Not  many  months  later  when  Gracie  Long  was  as 
famous  as  Leonora — the  rise  and  fall  of  a  star  is  sudden 
in  theater  land — Zoe  realized  that  it  was  cheek,  aplomb, 
daredevilry,  and  mere  insolence  of  manner,  which  had 
won  the  day  for  Gracie  and  darkened  it  for  her. 

Yet  she  glanced  at  the  girl  compassionately  now,  as 
she  came  from  Deller 's  room  with  a  boisterous  laugh. 
For  she  guessed  that  such  gayety  was  put  on  to  hide  her 
disappointment. 

"It's  your  turn,  now,"  said  Gracie,  "I'll  wait  here. 
Ta-ta,  and  good  luck." 

Zoe  went  with  conflicting  thoughts.  It  would  be 
better  if  Gracie  did  not  wait.  She  would  hate  to  hurt 
her  feelings  when  she  came  back  triumphant,  presently. 

She  found  Mr.  Deller  standing  with  his  back  to  a 
roaring  fire — a  dapper  little  man  with  a  humorous  face 
and  keen  eyes  which  ran  her  over  appraisingly  to  come 
back  to  hers  with  approval  in  their  depths.  Used  as 
she  now  was  to  being  regarded  as  a  prize  animal  in  the 
market  place,  there  was  something  in  the  manner  of 
this  man  which  made  her  more  conscious  of  it  than  ever. 
And  her  voice  trembled  indignantly  as  she  answered 
the  abrupt  questions  flung  at  her  like  crumbs  to  a  bird, 
without  waiting  for  her  to  finish  one  reply. 

His  mind  must  have  been  made  up  from  the  first. 
For  although  the  young  man,  who  had  shown  her  in,  had 
sat  down  at  the  piano,  Deller  did  not  attempt  to  put 
her  through  her  traces.  He  shook  his  head,  and  spoke 
kindly.  He  was  sorry  he  could  not  engage  her,  but  he 
wanted  more  experience — his  vacancies  were  all  filled 
up.  But  there  would  be  one  or  two  in  a  few  weeks- 
she  could  apply  again — the  salary  would  begin  at 


THE  LUBE  OP  THE  FLAME      177 

thirty  shillings  a  week.  Yes — in  about  five  weeks  she 
could  call.  Good  day. 

She  found  herself  back  in  the  ante-room  breathless 
with  surprise  and  disappointment.  She  had  felt  sure 
he  would  engage  her!  The  whole  day  had  been  full  of 
hope  and  gladness. 

Alas!  Just  as  we  all  can  remember  such  a  day  in 
our  lives — like  an  oasis  in  a  desert  of  monotony — so  we 
can  remember  that  often  towards  its  close  the  bright 
sky  is  covered  with  clouds,  lightning  flashes,  thunder 
roars;  or  a  steady  downpour  of  persistent  rain,  more 
depressing  because  seemingly  eternal,  quenches  the  fire 
of  hope  we  had  lit  so  joyfully. 

Nevertheless  she  blinked  away  the  tears  and  smiled  at 
Gracie. 

"I  haven't  got  it,"  she  murmured. 

"Oh,  I'm  sorry,  reelly!"  cried  the  girl,  "But  never 
mind,  there's  more  fish  in  the  sea  when  all's  said  and 
done.  Or,  p'raps  I  ought  to  say  more  seas  for  us  to 
disport  ourselves  in!" 

"I  can't  understand  it,"  said  Zoe,  "He's  a  great 
friend  of — the  gentleman  who  sent  me — at  least  I  un- 
derstood he  was — " 

"Well,  he's  done  something  by  seeing  you,  hasn't  he? 
Sometimes  he  won't  do  that — when  he's  full  up.  That 
means  you  stand  a  chance  for  later  on — " 

"Yes.  But  what's  the  good  of  that?"  retorted  Zoe 
bitterly,  as  they  went  along  the  dreary  passages,  "It's 
now  I  want  it — now — " 

She  was  conscious  of  Gracie 's  quick  puzzled  look 
which  seemed  to  ask  why  she  wanted  work  so  badly, 
when  she  was  anything  but  down  at  heel.  That  was 
Gracie 's  idea  of  poverty  and  want — since  appearance 
did  not  matter  so  much  in  the  world  from  which  she 
sprung.  She  had  no  idea  of  the  scores  of  well-clad, 
well-groomed  men  and  women,  looking  far  above  money. 


178      THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

worries,  to  whom  money  was  as  rare  a  commodity  as 
manna  straight  from  Heaven. 

"I'm  awfully  sorry,"  she  stammered,  "I  didn't  think 
you  cared  much — if  I  had — I  might — I  really  might 
have  asked  Mr.  Deller  to  give  you  a  chance  first — I 
know  mine '11  come,  and  Jimmy  Lord  of  the  Gigantic  is 
pretty  keen  on  me." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Zoe. 

"Don't  you  know?  Deller 's  engaged  me.  But  I 
wouldn't  have  taken  it  from  you  if — " 

"Of  course  you  wouldn't,"  retorted  Zoe,  wondering 
what  Deller  had  been  thinking  about — "Nor  indeed, 
should  I  dream  of  taking  it  from  you.  It's  very  kind 
of  you — to — to  say  those  things,  but  it's  only  fair  you 
should  get  it.  You're  older  than  I  and  a  better  dancer 
and—" 

"As  for  that,  I've  danced  from  my  cradle,  so  that's 
nothing  to  crow  about.  And  you're  all  right  too,  al- 
though Leonora's  down  on  you.  I  think  it  a  shame 
she  is." 

"You  dance  beautifully,"  said  Zoe  generously.  If 
I'd  learnt  from  my  cradle  I  should  still  be  as  far  be- 
hind as  I  am  now.  I'm  glad  Mr.  Deller  has  engaged 
you — and — if  you'll  give  me  Mr.  Reuben  Moses's  address 
I'll— go  to  him—" 

"Don't  you  know  him?" 

"I've  never  heard  of  him,"  said  Zoe,  going  on  to 
name  those  she  had  seen — all  high  up  in  their  calling 
with  nothing  shady  to  their  names.  Gracie  laughed. 

"My!  They're  tip  top,"  she  said,  "And  look  for 
tip  top  workers.  I  wouldn't  go  to  them,  myself — If 
you  really  want  to  start  you  must  be  in  with  someone 
else — someone  who  doesn't  mind  if  you're  known  or  not 
— and  then  if  you  make  a  name  those  others '11  take  you 
up  p'raps.  Whoever  sent  you  to  them,  has  some  game 
on— I'll  be  bound." 


THE  LURE  OP  THE  FLAME  179 

"How?"  asked  Zoe. 

"He  doesn't  want  you  to  get  work — if  he's  a  man. 
If  it's  a  woman,  she's  jealous." 

Zoe  flushed.  Why  should  not  Raynor  want  her  to 
work?  Could  Dardino  be  directing  him? 

"I  don't  think  that's  at  all  likely,"  she  retorted 
stiffly.  "The  friend  who  sent  me  is  a  very  nice  man 
who  is  most  anxious  to  see  me  get  on,  and — " 

"They  all  say  that!"  sniffed  Gracie.  "That's  a 
blind — what  they  hope  is  that  you'll  go  on  trying  and 
never  getting,  until  at  last  you  drop  like  a  ripe  plum 
into  their  hands — that's  what  they  mean,  these  gentle- 
men who  send  you  to  places  where  they  only  want 
people  with  success  behind  them." 

"Why  should  anyone  do  anything  so  absurd?"  cried 
Zoe.  "If  a  man  wants  to  marry  a  girl — " 

"Marry!"  Who  spoke  of  marrying?"  laughed 
Gracie,  her  eyes  incredulous,  "Come,  you  aren't  as 
simple  as  all  that.  You  know  quite  well  what  I  mean 
— I've  seen  you  give  the  glad  eye  to  some  of  the  gentle- 
men that  come  to  watch  us  dance  at  Leonora's — I  saw 
you  when  the  Honorable  Jack  made  a  fuss  of  you." 

"Surely  a  cat  may  look  at  a  king — and  one  can't 
be  rude  to  people  just  because  they  happen  to  be  men," 
retorted  Zoe,  puzzled  at  this  sudden  sign  of  prudery  in 
one  she  had  considered  anything  but  strait-laced. 

' '  I  can 't  bear  people  who  pretend  to  be  innocent,  when 
they're  no  better  than  they  are,"  exclaimed  Gracie. 

Zoe  walked  on  in  silence  along  the  dingy  street.  She 
felt  annoyed  with  Gracie,  with  Raynor,  with  all  the 
world.  She  wanted  to  ask  what  Gracie  meant,  but  did 
not  like  to  expose  an  ignorance  which  seemed  so  con- 
temptible. Already  she  had  learnt  many  things  she  had 
never  dreamt  of  and  which  told  to  her  badly  had  made 
an  impression  far  from  good.  But  here  was  a  mystery 
she  had  not  yet  fathomed,  and  which  she  had  heard 


180      THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

hinted  at  with  tears  and  laughter,  several  times  of  late. 
And  no  one  believed  she  did  not  know  it.  Every  one 
called  her  a  baby  and  a  green-horn,  but  no  one  told  her 
why.  It  had  been  the  same  at  school  where  the  girl 
whose  love  letter  had  been  found,  was  one  of  a  clique 
which  seemed  to  have  some  secret  understanding.  She 
had  heard  them  whispering  their  confidences,  their 
faces  full  of  secrecy  and  an  unholy  look  which  had 
made  her  shrink  from  them.  But  to  an  outsider  like 
herself,  no  inkling  ever  came  of  what  they  discussed 
with  such  evil  glee — only  she  caught  the  words,  "he — 
him — his — "  and  concluded  with  disgust  that  all  these 
blushes  and  furtive  whisperings  were  merely  about  the 
spotty  faced  youth  she  loathed. 

And  at  Leonora's  she  found  the  same  kind  of  free- 
masonry amongst  various  members  of  the  class — 
chiefly  the  girls  like  Gracie.  It  had  puzzled  her  for 
a  long  time. 

They  had  reached  Leicester  Square  and  stopped  at  a 
crossing.  An  overdressed  woman — one  of  the  outcast 
sisterhood — came  towards  them.  Gracie  tossed  her  head 
and  looked  contemptuously  into  the  pretty  and  some- 
what unhappy  little  face,  but  Zoe's  heart  tightened  as 
she  met  the  miserable,  defiant  eyes,  which  lingered  al- 
most enviously  upon  her.  She  felt  the  color  rush  to  her 
brow  and  an  inexplicable  pity  well  up  in  her.  It  was  as 
though  the  woman  said:  "I  am  in  prison —  in  prison — 
help  me  out!" 

"P'raps  you  don't  know  what  she  is?"  whispered 
Gracie  in  her  ear. 

"She  looks  wretched  in  spite  of  all  her  finery,"  mur- 
mured Zoe. 

"It's  her  own  fault — the  beast!  I  hate  her,  I  hate 
them  all,  but  above  all  I  hate  them  that  drive  them 
to  it." 

"To  what?"  stammered  Zoe,  surprised  at  the  girl's 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      181 

astonishing  anger  and  feeling  she  was  on  the  brink  of  a 
discovery.  Gracie  looked  at  her  suspiciously: 

"Come,"  she  said,  "You  aren't  as  green  as  all  that! 
And  if  you  are  I  wonder  your  mother  lets  you  stay 
here  alone — and — " 

"Nothing  terrible  has  happened  to  her,  why  should 
it  to  me?"  retorted  Zoe,  unconsciously  using  the  same 
plea  her  mother  had  many  a  time.  "Perhaps  she 
doesn't  know  the  things  you  mean.  And  she  warned 
me  against  strangers." 

"That's  no  good,  if  she  didn't  say  why.  That's 
mothers  all  over.  They're  a  poor  lot,  and  the  only  ones 
to  blame  if  anything  happens." 

"My  mother  is  anything  but  a  poor  lot!"  choked  Zoe, 
as  the  loved  face  seemed  to  rise  before  her  in  protest, 
"She's  a  saint,  really!" 

"A  funny  kind  of  saint  I  call  her,  if  she  shirks  her 
nasty  business  on  to  other  people.  I've  known  girls  go 
'on  the  streets'  just  because  their  mothers  have  been 
too  mysterious  to — " 

"On  the  streets?" 

' '  Oh,  my,  Zoe,  you  make  me  tired !  Go  home  to  your 
Mammie  do,  you  aren't  fit  to  look  after  yourself — " 

"But—"  protested  Zoe. 

"Here's  Reuben's — Are  you  going  in?" 

"I  may  as  well,  muttered  Zoe,  resentfully,  as  she 
looked  up  at  the  dingy  plate  which  gave  the  information 
that  Reuben  Moses,  Dramatic  and  Theatrical  Agent, 
was  within. 

"Well  then,  I'll  say  good-by.  I  really  don't  know 
whether  I  ought  to  let  you  go  in,"  exclaimed  Gracie 
mockingly.  "You're  such  an  innocent  baby — and  he's 
hot  stuff — and  I'm  sure  your  Mammie  will  be  shocked, 
and—' 

"Oh,  don't!"  snapped  Zoe,  turning  away  indig- 
nantly, and  making  for  the  narrow  stairs,  as  Gracie 's 


182  THE  LUKE  OF  THE  FLAME 

laugh  rang  after  her.  She  felt  very  angry  with  her, 
first  for  rousing  her  curiosity  and  then  not  satisfying 
it  and  then  for  disbelieving  her  as  she  so  evidently  did. 

She  knocked  at  the  glass  topped  door  on  which, 
painted  in  black  lettering,  ran  the  same  legend  as  that 
downstairs. 

"Come  in,"  called  a  man's  voice. 

She  found  herself  in  a  dingy  room  with  a  frosted 
window  and  walls  covered  with  theatrical  posters  and 
photographs.  An  open  door  facing  her,  led  into  an- 
other room  comfortably  furnished  its  walls  decorated 
in  like  fashion,  its  windows  heavily  curtained.  On  its 
threshold  stood  a  young  man  with  sleek  black  hair,  a 
huge  nose  and  a  leer  on  his  swarthy  face. 

"Mr.  Moses?"  said  Zoe,  her  heart  sinking. 

"No — Miss.  You're  too  late  by  ten  minutes.  Mr. 
Moses  will  be  back  at  three — " 

She  hesitated,  relieved  that  this  somewhat  forbidding 
looking  youth  was  not  the  man  she  sought. 

"Have  you  an  appointment?"  he  asked,  coming  for- 
ward and  jingling  the  coins  in  his  trouser  pockets. 

"No.     But — I  suppose  you  don't  know  if  it's  any 

good  my  coming  back?    I  want  a  post,  as — as  dancer 

__     » 
or — 

"I'm  sure  it  is,"  he  exclaimed,  his  bold  eyes  full  of 
admiration.  "We  have  several  vacancies  for  dancers 
— two  troupes  going  abroad.  One  starts  to-night." 

He  was  edging  nearer  to  her  as  he  spoke,  his  eyes 
still  on  her  face,  his  leer  deeper,  cunning,  insolent. 

"Only  of  course  there  are  lots  after  them.  It's  goad 
pay  you  see,  not  to  mention  a  sea  voyage  and  a  good 
time  over  there.  Ever  been  on  the  continent?" 

"Yes — "  faltered  Zoe,  backing  to  the  door  she  had 
left  open  behind  her. 

"Won't  you  sit  down  and  let  me  tell  you  all  about 
it?  Mr.  Moses  is  sending  me  over  with  them,  and  if 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      183 

he  engages  you — as  he's  sure  to  when  he  hears  what  I 
have  to  say  about  it — " 

"I — I  don't  think  I  want  to  go  abroad,"  said  Zoe, 
her  hand  on  the  door-knob. 

"Not  if  I  promise  to  look  after  you?  I  know  the 
ropes,  and  can  put  you  up  to  a  trick  or  two." 

"I  prefer  something  here,"  replied  Zoe,  her  heart 
thumping  noisily  and  a  sense  of  relief  springing  up  in 
it  as  she  caught  sight  of  a  woman's  figure  in  the  pas- 
sage. "So  I'll  come  back  at  three.  Good  morning." 

She  closed  the  door  quietly  in  the  man's  astonished 
face,  and  turned  to  the  stairs.  The  woman  standing 
at  the  top  of  them  was  small  and  shabby  with  a  pale 
wan  face  and  faded  bl,ue  eyes. 

"Excuse  me,"  she  said  in  a  low  sweet  voice,  "But  if 
you'll  take  my  advice  you  won't  come  back  at  three 
— no,  not  even  if  you're  starving,  which  doesn't  seem 
likely  judging  by  your  appearance.  I  heard  what  you 
said — I  couldn't  help  it,  and  perhaps  it's  just  as  well. 

"Why?"   asked  Zoe,   as  they  went   down   together. 

"Because  Mr.  Moses  isn't  a  good  man — that's  why?" 

"But  what  does  that  matter,  if  he  gets  me  something 
to  do?" 

"It'll  matter  more  than  you  think.  I  know.  I  was 
taken  in  like  that  once,  and  had  no  one  to  save  me. 
That's  why  I  stopped  to  listen  and  wait  for  you —  If 
you  take  any  post  he  offers — you'll  wish  yourself  dead 
before  your 're  much  older.  You  didn't  like  that  man 
you  saw,  did  you?" 

"No — he  was  horrid — I  was  glad  to  see  you — " 

"Moses  is  worse — and  once  you  get  into  his  clutches 
you're  like  a  fly  in  a  spider's  web.  If  you  walk  into 
his  parlor  to-day,  you'll  rue  it — there!" 

"Why — oh,  why?"  whispered  Zoe,  recalling  the  feel- 
ing of  nausea  the  youth  had  aroused  in  her. 

"A  nod's  as  good  as  a  wink  to  a  blind  horse,"  re- 


184      THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

plied  the  woman.  "I've  a  room  above  Moses's  and 
could  tell  a  tale  or  two  about  him.  But  one  must  live 
— Then,  too,  some  girls  won't  be  helped.  But  you — 
you  look  different.  Here's  my  'bus.  Remember — keep 
away  from  Moses." 

She  smiled,  beckoned  the  conductor,  and  disappeared 
from  Zoe's  sight  as  the  girl  went  her  way  wonder- 
ingly. 

Should  she  go  back  to  Moses  or  not?  She  felt 
tempted  to  if  only  to  see  what  would  happen,  though 
what  could  happen,  against  her  will,  in  a  country  like 
England?  She  was  strong  enough  not  to  be  made  to  do 
anything  she  disliked —  And  yet,  hadn't  she  been  glad 
enough  to  see  that  woman  standing  behind  her — glad 
enough  to  feel  that  she  could  escape  from  the  leering 
youth  whose  eyes  reminded  her  of — what? 

Back  swung  the  vision  of  the  couple  she  had  seen  be- 
neath the  lamp  in  the  old  cobble  stoned  street  of  Sainte 
Croix.  "With  a  little  shudder  she  turned  down  towards 
her  rooms.  Perhaps  Roy  would  be  there — with  his 
clear  blue  eyes  and  loving  smile.  Roy  who  was  as  good 
as  these  other  men  seemed  wicked. 


CHAPTER  XV 

BUT  Zoe  did  not  find  Keith  awaiting  her,  nor — 
although  she  stayed  in  on  purpose  not  to  miss  him 
— did  he  come  at  all  that  day.  Nor  the  next — nor  yet 
the  next. 

His  absence  hurt  her  terribly,  and  his  silence  drove 
her  to  despair.  She  had  no  inclination  to  seek  for  work 
— though  the  necessity  for  it  was  getting  urgent — slept 
badly  and  lost  her  appetite.  On  the  third  day,  to  ease 
her  distress  of  mind,  she  went  to  the  theater,  but  the 
love  story  unfolded  on  the  stage  merely  stimulated  her 
unrest  and  she  returned  home  more  wretched  than  ever. 

To  make  things  worse  she  was  beginning  to  find  the 
world  a  harder  place  than  she  had  dreamt  it  could 
be.  First  of  all,  the  guinea  did  not  come  from  the  Club, 
and  her  timid  request  for  it  was  ignored,  and  then  her 
mother's  reply  was  short  and — to  her  mind — unsym- 
pathetic. She  only  enclosed  a  few  shillings  in  response 
for  the  demand  for  money,  and  did  not  know  when  she 
could  send  more.  But,  perhaps,  that  was  not  neces- 
sary, as  Zoe  was  sure  Deller  would  engage  her.  At  any 
rate  she  hoped  so,  as,  through  her  ill  health  she  had  had 
to  postpone  several  lessons  and  had  lost  some  of  her 
good  pupils.  She  made  no  comment  about  Zoe's  re- 
fusal to  go  to  Dunsworth,  but  regretted  that  she  did 
not  feel  up  to  coming  to  town  as  all  her  strength  must 
be  husbanded  for  her  work. 

Zoe  sneered  as  she  read  that — recalling  Mrs.  Broome- 
Taylor's  words  about  duty.  She  was  too  annoyed  by 
the  letter  to  feel  sorry  that  misfortune  and  ill-news 

185 


186  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

seemed  to  dodge  her  mother's  footsteps.  But  she  felt 
positive  that  her  mother  was  not  so  hard  up  as  she 
said,  and  had  only  written  like  this  to  make  her  go  to 
Dunsworth.  Well — she  wasn't  going,  so  there! 

In  the  moments  she  was  not  brooding  about  Keith 
she  was  puzzling  over  Grade's  insinuations — over  the 
strange  woman's  warning  about  Moses — over  all  her 
sensations  throughout  the  day  which  had  opened  so  en- 
couragingly. And  she  told  herself  that  she  would  go 
to  Moses  in  spite  of  all,  if  the  other  agents,  Gracie  had 
mentioned,  had  nothing  for  her.  She  would  go  to- 
morrow perhaps.  But  when  to-morrow  came  she  put 
it  off  again — until  to-morrow,  which,  as  all  the  world 
knows,  is  a  day  that  never  comes. 

So  it  was  with  everything  else — the  advertisements 
she  meant  to  answer,  the  agencies  she  meant  to  visit — 
until  at  last  the  wolf  was  really  at  the  door  and  she 
had  to  buckle  on  her  armor  and  face  the  fight,  or 
starve. 

She  tramped  the  streets  from  early  morning  till  late 
night  in  her  fruitless  search  for  employment,  and  her 
quest  took  her  into  offices  where  the  familiarity  of  her 
would-be  employers  put  her  on  her  guard,  and  made  her 
refuse  their  offer  of  work  with  a  sense  of  escape  she 
could  not  fathom. 

For  the  same  reason,  although  she  climbed  the  stairs 
to  Moses'  rooms  more  than  once,  she  never  crossed  the 
threshold.  The  minute  her  eyes  fell  upon  the  black 
lettering  on  the  door  she  recalled  the  stranger's  words: 
"Once  you  get  into  his  clutches  you're  like  a  fly  in  a 
spider's  web."  For  her  horizon  had  begun  to  widen 
and  the  things  she  had  puzzled  over  became  clear,  and 
in  such  a  way  that  her  whole  mind  was  distorted  and 
evil  threatened  everywhere.  She  saw  it  in  faces  where 
it  had  no  trace;  she  anticipated  it  in  places  where  it 
had  no  being ;  she  was  seized  with  an  overwhelming  fear, 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      187 

and  scurried  away  from  lonely  looking  buildings  as 
though  wild  beasts  were  after  her. 

And  all  this  time  not  a  line  from  Keith  who  had 
vanished  completely  from  her  life.  Even  Biddy  Too- 
good  could  not  help  her,  and  a  pathetic  letter,  asking 
why  he  was  angry  with  her,  remained  unanswered. 
She  could  only  think  that  the  uncle  had  found  out 
about  her  and  put  down  his  foot  in  such  a  way  that 
Keith  could  not  help  himself.  Or  that  he  had  fallen 
ill. 

She  was  as  lonely  as  any  girl  could  be,  for  she  had 
never  made  friends  with  the  girls  at  Leonora's  and 
had  stopped  her  lessons.  Nor  did  she  look  up  Raynor, 
for  she  was  beginning  to  believe  what  Gracie  had  said 
about  him — since  endless  applications  at  the  agencies  he 
had  recommended  led  to  nothing  but  empty  promises 
of  work  to  come.  And  in  reply  to  her  mother 's  inquiries 
she  wrote  back  curtly — on  post  cards — that  she  was  all 
right  and  doing  well.  Not  for  words  would  she  have 
Dunsworth  know  how  she  had  failed! 

At  last  one  morning  she  summoned  up  courage  to  tell 
Mrs.  Toogood  that  she  must  go — she  wanted  cheaper 
rooms — she  had  only  stayed  here  in  the  hope  that  Keith 
might  still  look  her  up.  But  now — a  fortnight  having 
gone — what  was  the  good  of  waiting? 

But  Biddy  would  not  hear  of  it.  She  had  promised 
Mr.  Keith  to  look  after  her — and  the  rent  could  wait. 
He  had  probably  gone  abroad  as  he  often  did — sud- 
denly, with  Sir  Jasper — and  what  would  he  say  when  he 
came  back  and  found  her  gone?  Of  course  if  she 
wanted  to  leave  because  she  was  uncomfortable  that  was 
a  different  thing  but — so  cleverly  did  the  old  woman 
manage  that  Zoe  found  herself  compelled  to  stay  to 
spare  her  feelings,  and  to  prove  that  her  reason  for 
mentioning  the  subject  had  nothing  to  do  with  the 
rooms,  or  the  house,  or  the  owner  thereof. 


188  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

All  the  same  her  pride  was  up  in  arms — charity  she 
would  accept  from  none.  And  although  Keith  had 
broken  her  heart  she  was  not  going  to  let  him  know  it — 
nor  starve  either. 

She  shed  a  few  tears  after  Biddy  had  left  her — and 
made  up  her  mind  to  go  to  the  Club  and  demand  her 
guinea.  That  at  least  she  had  a  right  to — and  al- 
though she  need  not  worry  about  lodgings  yet  awhile 
she  could  not  live  on  air. 

The  secretary — a  smart  young  woman  with  a  haughty 
manner,  who  gave  one  the  impression  that  she  was  doing 
the  work  for  the  love  of  it,  and  for  nothing  so  de- 
basing as  filthy  lucre — asked  if  she  did  not  think  the 
advertisement  of  appearing  at  the  Club  sufficient  pay- 
ment; much  better  known  artists  were  only  too  glad  to 
be  allowed  to  perform  there.  But  in  this  case,  if  pay- 
ment had  been  promised  Mrs.  Desborough  was  the  one 
to  go  to,  as  she  was  responsible  for  the  fees  paid  to  the 
artistes  that  night.  She  lived  in  Mount  Street,  she 
would  be  there  now — why  not  try  her? 

Zoe  had  to  persuade  herself  on  the  way  that  she  had 
earned  the  money  and  was  merely  asking  her  due,  but 
she  was  seized  with  shyness,  and  a  longing  to  leave  the 
matter  where  it  was,  when  she  found  herself  before  the 
polished  mahogany  door  in  Mount  Street.  It  was  only 
the  dire  need  clamoring  within  that  kept  her  there, 
bravely  facing  the  man-servant  who  answered  her  in- 
quiry, whether  his  mistress  was  in,  with  a  ready,  "Yes, 
Miss." 

The  sight  of  the  richly  furnished  drawing-room 
raised  her  hopes.  Mrs.  Desborough  could  afford  to  pay 
the  guinea  several  times  over  without  feeling  any  loss. 
That  made  it  all  the  more  surprising  that  there  should 
have  been  any  delay  about  it — and  Zoe,  as  she  glanced 
around  her,  commented  bitterly  on  the  selfishness  of 
these  rich  people. 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      189 

"Well — Miss  Dereham — and  what  can  I  do  for  you?" 
asked  Mrs.  Desborough  as  she  bustled  in  holding  out  her 
hand,  her  handsome  face  covered  with  smiles. 

But  as  Zoe  stated  her  purpose  the  smiles  gave  way 
to  a  look  of  extreme  annoyance  and  the  pleasant  voice 
grew  rasping  as  she  exclaimed: 

"I  never  heard  of  such  impertinence —  Oh,  I  don't 
mean  you — of  course  you  have  a  right  to  ask  for  pay- 
ment, you  did  so  well.  I  have  already  told  the  Club 
people  that  I  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  matter! 
They  owe  you  the  guinea  and  they  must  pay  it.  It's 
disgraceful  they  haven't  done  so  already!  Such  a  fuss 
for  a  paltry  sum  like  that." 

She  was  moving  towards  the  door  as  she  spoke,  and 
Zoe  followed  her. 

"You  quite  understand  I'm  not  to  blame,  don't  you," 
she  asked,  as  they  passed  into  the  hall,  "I  should  have 
settled  up  long  ago.  It  does  one  no  good  belonging  to 
a  badly  managed  place  like  that.  I  shall  resign.  As 
for  you,  insist  on  being  paid — I  can  quite  understand 
you  feel  annoyed — if  you  were  a  poor  girl  it  would  be 
too  bad.  Good  morning." 

Zoe  was  about  to  reply  that  she  was  a  poor  girl  and 
wanted  the  money  desperately  when  she  realized  that 
this  pampered  woman  would  never  believe  her — just 
because  her  clothes  were  tidy  and  she  looked  well  fed. 
So  she  laughed  instead,  for  the  humor  of  the  situation 
burst  through  her  misery — though  if  Mrs.  Desborough 
had  really  listened  she  would  have  realized  how  little 
mirth  was  really  in  the  sound. 

"Yes.  Isn't  it  funny!"  she  smiled  back,  making  no 
attempt  to  shake  hands  again,  as  the  servant  opened  the 
street  door.  "It  must  be  horrid  for  you  having  to 
make  such  a  fuss!" 

And  out  went  Zoe  into  the  clear  gray  morning  boil- 
ing with  indignation  and  hurt  pride  and  telling  herself 


190  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

that  it  was  no  good  going  back  to  the  Club.  She  might 
just  as  well  consider  that  she  had  received  the  guinea 
and  spent  it,  as  alas,  she  had,  several  times  over. 

It  occurred  to  her  as  she  turned  into  Piccadilly  that 
she  was  not  far  from  the  address  Keith  had  given  her 
and  that  there  would  be  no  harm  in  walking  by,  and  see- 
ing if  she  could  catch  a  glimpse  of  him.  Only  to  make 
sure  he  was  not  ill — to  see  the  sunshine  of  his  smile. 

But  as  she  reached  a  famous  bookshop  on  the  right, 
some  distance  yet  from  where  she  had  to  turn  off,  she 
became  suddenly  aware  that  he  was  behind  her — and 
with  him  a  tall  fair  girl,  with  a  full  figure  and  an 
abundance  of  wavy  hair. 

;.  Her  limbs  trembled  beneath  her  and  she  felt  faint  and 
giddy,  wondering  whether  to  turn  and  face  them — or 
whether  to  go  on  and  let  him  overtake  her. 

Already  their  voices  were  close  upon  her  ear — her 
faintness  increased,  she  turned  hurriedly  to  the  shop 
window  for  support.  But  he  did  not  glance  in  her  di- 
rection, and  the  courage  to  speak,  as  the  girl's  skirt 
brushed  hers,  failed  her.  The  impulse  to  follow  them 
into  the  shop  was  immense.  But  common  sense  and 
pride  beat  it  down.  So,  she  told  herself,  behaved  the 
adventuress  in  a  penny  novelette  or  a  halfpenny  paper 
feuilleton — but  not  so  a  Dereham.  Besides  he  had 
merely  been  her  friend  and  she  had  no  right  to  demand 
anything  from  him. 

Was  this  handsome  girl  the  grocer's  daughter — ugly 
— thirty — impossible  ?  If  so  why  had  he  told  her  ?  She 
was  very  young  and  pretty.  No  one  could  deny  that, 
no  matter  how  hateful  she  was. 

Her  eyes  ran  over  the  costly  volumes  in  the  window 
and  she  read  the  titles  mechanically.  She  felt  as  though 
she  would  remember  them  always,  that,  with  little  ef- 
fort, she  would  recall  the  whole  scene  until  she  died. 

Then  she  moved  on,  glancing  lingeringly  at  the  door 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      191 

as  she  passed;  then  in  the  street,  at  the  expensively 
dressed  women,  the  good-looking  men,  the  happy,  care- 
less, flappers.  There  was  not  one  of  these  she  did  not 
envy  from  the  bottom  of  her  heart — for  not  one  could 
be  as  wretched,  as  friendless  as  herself.  Even  the 
paper  men  near  St.  James's  Church  were  better  off. 
And  here  at  the  short  cut  into  Jermyn  Street  where 
Keith's  rooms  were — she  paused,  looked  back  and  de- 
cided that  she  had  as  much  right  as  anyone  to  go  into 
the  book  shop — that  she  had  been  a  fool  not  to  do  so — 
that  it  was  worth  while  going  now,  if  only  to  see  what 
Roy  would  say. 

She  hurried  back — chiding  herself  for  her  stupidity. 
Why  should  he  ignore  her,  any  more  than  another  ac- 
quaintance?— why  should  she  shrink  from  speaking  to 
him? 

The  door  swung  open  to  admit  her.  A  courteous 
whiteheaded  man  came  forward.  She  named  a  book  she 
suddenly  recalled;  which  had  made  a  woman's  name, 
and  probably  her  fortune.  Then  she  glanced  anxiously 
around  the  shop  as  he  turned  back  to  fetch  it.  Not  a 
customer  to  be  seen.  One  or  two  men  were  tidying  the 
various  stands  stacked  with  books  of  all  descriptions. 
Perhaps  Keith  had  been  turning  them  over — perhaps 
he  was  just  round  that  bend  at  the  far  end. 

She  strolled  timidly — conscious  that  she  was  ob- 
served. Not  a  sign!  He,  and  the  fair-haired  girl  had 
gone! 

Her  heart,  which  had  begun  to  sink — sank  lower  still 
as  the  white-headed  man  met  her  with  the  book  she  had 
asked  for.  She  had  hoped  he  would  not  have  it. — she 
longed  for  the  courage  to  refuse  it,  but  how  could  she 
with  all  these  tiresome  men  looking  on  and  listening? 

So,  paying  the  four  and  sixpence  smilingly,  she  faced 
the  street  again,  cursing  herself  for  her  folly  in  coming 
back. 


192  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

By  the  time  she  reached  the  Circus  the  heart-sick  feel- 
ing had  begun  to  wear  off,  under  the  admiring  glances 
thrown  at  her  and  she  began  to  look  for  those  that  did 
not  come — to  try  to  catch  glimpses  of  herself  in  the 
windows  she  passed. 

For  although  she  was  a  wind-battered  little  butterfly, 
she  could  still  flutter  her  wings  at  the  slightest  sign 
of  sunshine — still  hope  and  believe  that  they  would 
carry  her  through  this  black  cloud  to  a  brighter,  warmer 
land. 

She  decided  to  go  on  to  an  Agency  in  Shaftesbury 
Avenue,  though  she  told  herself  it  would  merely  be  to 
receive  the  same  answer,  the  same  horrible  probing 
which  seemed  the  common  feature  of  such  places.  But 
it  would  be  doing  something  and  something  had  to  be 
done.  She  had  just  wasted  four  and  sixpence  on  a  use- 
less book — and  a  stupidly  sentimental  one  for  all  it  sold 
in  its  thousands — or  was  that  why? — She  had  only  five 
shillings  and  some  odd  coppers  left,  nothing  to  pawn, 
no  one  to  borrow  from.  Of  course  there  was  Madame 
Dardino  but  she  had  not  seen  her  since  the  night  of  her 
reception,  and  Eaynor  had  never  suggested  her  going 
there  again — or  she  might  eat  humble  pie  and  go  to  her 
mother. 

Both  seemed  horrible  and  impossible.  As  for  Raynor, 
she  was  angry  with  him  and  pride — or  was  it  instinct 
— told  that  she  should  not  borrow  from  men. 

She  recalled  a  sentence  she  had  heard  in  her  child- 
hood: 

"I  cannot  dig,  to  beg  I  am  ashamed,"  varying  the 
first  line  with:  "I  dare  not  steal,"  and  wondering 
which  she  would  rather  do  if  things  came  to  the  worst. 
Beg  or  steal?  Steal  or  beg?  Beg,  steal?  Steal,  beg — 
the  words  obsessed  her,  they  danced  before  her  eyes,  they 
filled  her  ears.  Beg  or  steal? 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      193 

She  asked  the  question  of  the  smiling  poster  of  Harold 
Hailey — the  pierrot  of  pierrots — which  looked  down  at 
her  from  the  walls  of  his  theater.  It  was  a  huge  head — 
larger  than  life  size — its  eyes  seemed  to  follow  her. 

"Laugh — laugh!"  they  said,  "Why  worry?  Smile, 
smile  on." 

Other  words  slipped  into  her  mind  as  she  looked  back 
into  the  happy  jovial  face: 

"Laugh,  and  the  world  laughs  with  you, 
Weep,  and  you  weep  alone." 

And  a  sudden  idea  seized  her.  Here  was  help !  Mere 
chance  had  not  brought  her  here  to  read  the  message  of 
those  eyes.  He  had  admired  her  dancing — why  not  see 
him  now? 

She  stepped  round  the  corner  to  the  stage  door,  sure 
that  it  would  be  open,  as  it  was.  And  it  was  also  un- 
guarded so  that  she  slipped  into  the  narrow  passage 
and  was  just  wondering  which  way  to  turn,  when 
Hailey 's  hearty  laugh  fell  on  her  ear. 

Of  course  he  might  be  very  angry  and  refuse  to  speak 
to  her.  But  this  was  the  moment  fate  had  given  her 
and  she  could  not  allow  her  feelings  of  diffidence  to  rob 
her  of  it. 

She  stepped  on  to  the  stage  quite  unexepectedly  and 
found  herself  face  to  face  with  the  big  man  and  two 
others.  They  stared  in  amazement  at  her,  and  Hailey, 
who  was  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  exclaimed: 

"What  in  the  name  of  thunder  does  this  mean. 
Where's  Charlie?" 

"O'h,  please,  Mr.  Hailey,  I'm  sorry — but  no  one  stopped 
me  and  I  had  to  come,"  cried  Zoe,  springing  forward 
and  looking  appealingly  into  his  face.  "Don't  you  re- 
member me?" 

"Perfectly,"  he  said,  "But—" 

"I  was  passing — and  I  wondered  if  you'd  mind.    For 


194  THE  LURE  OP  THE  FLAME 

I  thought  that  perhaps  you'd  give  me  a  trial  if  you 
have  a  vacancy.  I'm  much  better  now  than  when  you 
saw  me  for  I've  been  learning  with  Madame  Leonora, 
and—" 

She  paused.  Excitement,  want  of  food,  the  atmos- 
phere of  the  place,  all  combined  to  make  her  feel  faint 
and  giddy. 

"Of  course  I  remember  you  well,"  he  said,  picking 
up  his  coat  and  putting  it  on.  "You  dance  very  well. 
But  I  have  nothing  to  give  you.  My  company  is  com- 
plete—" 

"Then  it's  no  use — "  she  faltered. 

The  note  of  despair  in  her  voice  seemed  to  touch  him. 
For  he  laid  his  hand  kindly  on  her  shoulder  and  said 
encouragingly : 

"I  have  nothing  myself — but,  if  you  have  no  desire 
to  remain  in  London,  you  might  try  an  old  member  of 
my  company,  Dan  Parsons.  He's  starting  a  seaside 
troupe  to  be  called  'The  Yellow  Ducklings.'  You'll  find 
his  office  in  Charing  Cross  Road,  near  the  Tube — I  for- 
get the  number." 

"Oh,  I  shall  find  it — thank  you  so  much.  It  is  kind 
of  you." 

"Not  at  all,"  he  smiled. 

"And  I  hope  I  haven't  disturbed  you  by  coming  in 
like  this" — she  glanced  round  the  stage  as  she  spoke. 
The  other  men  were  tidying  up. 

"Oh,  dear,  no,"  he  exclaimed,  shouting  one  or  two  re- 
marks at  them  and  turning  back  to  her.  "Another  five 
minutes  and  you  wouldn't  have  found  me.  I'm  sorry, 
though,  that  I  can't  do  more  for  you.  This  is  a  bad 
place  to  come  to  for  a  'shop' — I  never  have  a  vacancy!" 

' '  That  means  you  keep  your  people  a  long  time ! ' '  she 
smiled,  walking  out  in  front  of  him.  "You  can't  have 
it  both  ways,  can  you?" 

"I'm   quite   content   with   things   as   they   are,"   he 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      195 

smiled.  "Worry  killed  the  cat  you  know — and  inci- 
dentally a  great  many  others.  Let  me  give  you  a  tip. 
Never  meet  trouble  halfway.  Something's  bound  to 
turn  up,  in  the  nick  of  time — if  you  remember  that, 
and  trust  to  fate,  and — " 

' '  I  know ! ' '  exclaimed  Zoe,  her  discretion  slipping  from 
her.  "I  was  in  despair  a  minute  ago,  and — and — if  I 
hadn't  suddenly  thought  of  you,  I  don't  know  what  I 
should  have  done!" 

"Is  it  as  bad  as  that?"  he  murmured,  his  eyes  look- 
ing deep  down  into  hers.  "Poor  little  woman.  Well, 
Dan's  sure  to  want  you — I'll  guarantee  that.  But  it's 
no  good  going  there  now — D'you  know  the  time,  or  are 
you  lucky  enough  to  have  had  your  lunch?  If  not, 
what's  the  objection  to  coming  with  me?" 

They  had  reached  the  street  and  she  was  preparing 
to  say  good-by.  Could  he  see  how  hungry  she  was? 
Had  she  revealed  too  much  ?  Or  did  he  really  want  her 
company?  If  only  she  could  tell!  She  felt  pinched, 
and  pale,  and  queer,  but  for  all  that  she  could  not  ac- 
cept his  charity  and  yet — wouldn't  it  be  silly  to  say  no 
and  run  the  risk  of  offending  him? 

' '  Thank  you  very  much, ' '  she  faltered,    ' '  But— ' ' 

"But  me  no  buts!"  he  laughed,  "I'm  famished,  and 
have  no  heart  for  arguments.  Come  along.  We'll  drop 
into  'L  'Entente  Cordiale,'  and  see  Society  and  Bohemia 
feeding  out  of  the  same  platter.  It's  better  than  any 
Zoo,  and  the  latest  thing  in  town!" 

So  laughing  and  talking  he  piloted  her  across  the 
turning  and  along  the  pavement  to  the  next  street.  She 
felt  sure  he  had  guessed  her  plight — if  only  by  his  anxi- 
ety to  put  her  at  her  ease — that  his  big  kind  heart  was 
full  of  pity  for  her.  But  she  no  longer  minded  for  his 
eyes  held  more  than  kindness,  admiration — the  wine  of 
life  to  her — overflowed  from  them  into  his  smile. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

FORTUNE  having  decided  to  smile  upon  Zoe,  she 
forgot  her  troubles  and  surrendered  herself  to  the 
enjoyment  of  the  hour.  She  managed  to  imbibe  a  good 
deal  of  the  optimism  irradiated  by  Hailey,  and  took  in 
all  that  was  going  on  about  her. 

They  had  just  got  to  the  coffee  stage  when  she  saw 
Dardino  come  in  followed  by  Raynor.  Both  looked  sur- 
prised, and  not  a  little  impressed,  at  her  being  with 
Hailey,  and  made  straight  for  their  table.  Dardino,  all 
smiles  and  tenderness,  reproached  her  for  her  silence  and 
questioned  her  about  her  work.  She  was  so  charming 
that  Zoe  wondered  if  she  had  ever  been  anything  else, 
and  opened  out  to  her  as  a  flower  to  the  sun.  At  the 
same  time  she  was  conscious  that  Raynor,  who  had 
dropped  into  earnest  conversation  with  Hailey,  glanced 
apprehensively  at  her  as  she  told  of  her  experiences. 

"Poor  little  girl,"  murmured  Dardino,  taking  her 
hand  caressingly.  "Why  didn't  you  come  to  me?" 

Zoe  said  nothing  to  remind  her  of  the  way  in  which 
she  had  dismissed  her  when  she  had  done  so,  but  she 
wondered  if  she  dare  hint  at  her  impecuniosity  and  bor- 
row the  wherewithal  to  pay  her  way  until  she  received 
her  first  week's  salary.  Fatalist  as  she  was,  she  be- 
lieved that  this  meeting  was  due  to  fortune's  sudden  in- 
terest in  her  and  that  the  moment  was  ripe  for  her  to 
get  something  out  of  it.  She  would  certainly  want 
money  to  enable  her  to  accept  the  "shop"  Dan  Parsons 
was  going  to  give  her.  But  the  words  stuck  in  her  gul- 
let. Borrowing  was  so  like  begging — especially  when 
one  did  not  know  if  one  could  ever  repay.  Neverthe- 

196 


THE  LUKE  OF  THE  FLAME      197 

less,  encouraged  by  Dardino's  smiles,  she  could  not  re- 
sist putting  out  a  feeler  or  two.  And  the  sudden  nar- 
rowing of  the  singer's  eyes,  and  hardening  of  her  face, 
as  she  laughingly  remarked  that  all  were  in  the  same 
boat  and  as  poor  as  mice  in  spite  of  expensive  clothes, 
showed  that  she  had  noticed  how  much  smarter  Zoe 
looked  and  that  it  was  no  use  expecting  anything  from 
that  quarter. 

But,  she  whispered,  as  Zoe  was  no  longer  a  baby,  per- 
haps she  knew  that  there  were  ways  of  getting  money  if 
ever  she  became  desperately  hard  up.  For  Mr.  Hailey 
was  as  rich  as  he  was  kind  and  a  kiss,  or  the  mere  prom- 
ise of  one,  would  be  sufficient  guarantee  for  him. 

Zoe  glanced  apprehensively  at  the  actor  to  see  if  he 
had  heard,  and  blushed  as  Dardino  laughed  wickedly. 
The  dislike  she  had  been  feeling  for  her,  surged  up 
again  and  she  rose  gladly  to  her  feet  as  Hailey  ex- 
claimed : 

"You  must  be  going,  Miss  Zoe — and  so  must  I. 
Good-by,  Madame.  You  look  more  charming  than  ever ! 
It  grieves  me  to  leave  you  here,  but — duty  calls!" 

Outside  he  took  Zoe's  arm.  It  was  a  quiet  little  street, 
practically  a  slum;  no  one  troubled  to  notice  them,  once 
the  restaurant  doors  swung  back  and  the  smart  com- 
missionaire turned  in. 

"If  you  will  let  a  fairly  old  man  advise  you,  Miss 
Zoe,"  he  said,  solemnly,  "I  should  suggest  your  having 
as  little  to  do  with  that  lady  and  her  friends  as  you 
can.  Oh,  yes — I  see  what  you  think.  I  have  to  know 
her,  and  I'm  a  man.  But  you're  a  woman —  One  little 
breath  against  your  name  and  you  lose  your  reputation, 
which  is  one  of  the  fairest  of  your  possessions.  You 
have  chosen  this  life,  and  with  care,  courage,  and  de- 
termination, you  can  remain  as  free  from  evil  as  you 
are  now.  But  you  must  pick  your  way — I  know  hun- 
dreds of  good  women  in  the  profession,  but  I  also  know 


198  THE  LUKE  OF  THE  FLAME 

thousands  who  are  bad.  If  you  were  my  daughter,  or 
my  sister  I  should  take  you  away  out  of  it  at  once, 
but—" 

"I  must  work — "  began  Zoe.  "My  mother  consents 
to—" 

"Yes — so  I  supposed — and  of  course  it's  no  business 
of  mine,  but  I  had  to  get  if  off  my  chest  all  the  same, 
and  I  feel  all  the  better  for  it.  You'll  forgive  me,  won't 
you?  You  see  I'm  treating  you  as  though  you  really 
belonged  to  my  company.  The  girls  call  me  Daddy 
Hailey  because  I'm  such  a  martinet  with  them —  And 
now  we  must  part — only  there's  another  little  thing:  I 
couldn't  help  hearing  what  you  said  about  your  search 
for  work,  and  so — look  here — "  he  took  a  bank  note  from 
his  letter-case  and  pressed  it,  with  some  loose  coins,  into 
her  hand. 

She  started,  blushing  hotly  as  she  recalled  Dardino's 
words.  Not  that  she  minded  if  he  kissed  her,  but — there 
was  something  more  than  humiliating  in  accepting 
now. 

"Thank  you,  but  I — I  can't,"  she  stammered,  push- 
ing it  back. 

"I'm  afraid  you  must,"  he  smiled.  "You'll  want 
something  to  rig  yourself  out  in  the  Yellow  Duckling 
costume,  and  even  if  you  start  work  next  week  you'll 
have  to  live  somehow.  You  can't  accept  a  'hop'  with- 
out the  necessary,  and — I  presume  your  funds  are  low 
after  being  out  so  long.  So  please  take  it.  Listen — I 
had  a  little  sister  once  with  eyes  like  yours.  She  died 
— starved.  Help  came  too  late  to  save  her,  for  I  was 
abroad  when  she  fell  ill  after  slaving  like  a  navy  at  a 
typewriter.  There  was  plenty  owing  her — but  authors 
are  bad  payers,  as  a  rule — and  she  had  neither  the  cour- 
age, nor  the  heart  to  bother  them.  So  it's  for  her  sake 
I  want  you  to  take  this,  I'm  sure  you'd  do  the  same  for 
me." 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      199 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Zoe,  touched  by  the  look  on  his  face, 
"And  I  don't  know  what  to  say — but  thank  you." 

"That's  right.  And  now  good-by  and  good  luck.  I 
sail  for  America  shortly  but  I  hope  to  hear  grand  things 
about  you  when  I  return — " 

"You  shall!  I  promise  you  that,"  she  cried  after 
him — as  hopeful  as  ever,  as  ready  to  promise  whether 
sure  of  keeping  her  word  or  not. 

And  then  she  glanced  at  her  precious  handful:  a  five 
pound  note,  two  pounds  and  half  a  sovereign.  How 
good,  how  kind  he  was !  And  he  had  not  even  begged  a 
kiss,  he  had  given  it — of  course  she  would  pay  it  back 
— just  because  she  reminded  him  of  his  dead  sister! 
And  Raynor  had  said  nothing — and  Roy  had  forgotten 
her. 

She  walked  quickly  to  Dan  Parsons'  offices  and  found 
him  a  poor  replica  of  Hailey.  Imitation  being  the  sin- 
cerest  form  of  flattery,  it  was  evident  that  he  greatly 
admired  his  former  chief.  His  face  being  long  and  thin, 
his  body  gaunt,  and  his  eyes  somewhat  colorless  and 
small,  it  said  something  for  his  powers  of  mimicry  that 
one  could  detect  his  model  in  every  turn  of  his  head, 
every  gesture  of  his  hands,  every  intonation  of  his  voice. 

And  of  course  he  engaged  Zoe  on  the  spot.  He  told 
her  he  would  have  done  so  anyhow,  if  old  Hailey  had 
not  telephoned  a  minute  or  two  ago  to  tell  him  about 
her.  The  Yellow  Ducklings  would  begin  to  quack  at 
Bournemouth  the  following  Monday.  The  name  was 
good,  wasn't  it?  Yellow  for  the  costumes — ducklings 
for  themselves — they  were  all  dear  little  duckies — nine 
in  all,  three  ladies  beside  herself,  four  sweet  little 
cough-drops,  of  which  she  was  most  certainly  the  young- 
est, and  also  the — h'm — 

Meanwhile  there  was  her  costume  to  be  got,  which  she 
would  pay  for — and  rehearsals  to  attend  each  day,  in 
Maiden  Lane.  She  would  be  put  through  her  facings 


200      THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

there,  to-morrow.  Salary — two  pounds  a  week,  subject 
to  the  clause:  no  work,  no  pay.  Some  silly  idiots  had 
been  kicking  up  ructions  about  that  but  they  'd  soon  wish 
they  hadn't — for  managers  held  together  and  the  clause 
had  been  observed  by  the  best  actors  in  the  land.  If 
she  didn't  like  it,  she  needn't  take  it — she  could  go. 

The  good  food  and  the  wine  Hailey  had  forced  upon 
her  were  beginning  to  have  their  effect,  so  that  she  hardly 
heeded  his  garrulity  and  was  ready  to  agree  to  any- 
thing. She  promised  to  be  punctual  at  rehearsal  and 
asked  for  the  address  of  the  costume  people.  She  was 
glad  he  had  engaged  her — glad  she  was  the  youngest  of 
the  sweet  little  cough-drops,  and  the — wouldn't  he  tell 
her  what  he  meant? 

"I  mustn't  do  that!"  he  laughed.  "That  was  a  mo- 
ment of  aberration  on  my  part — but — when  you  get 
home,  you'll  soon  know." 

"How?"  she  asked,  glancing  smilingly  from  beneath 
her  lashes. 

"You  needn't  look  further  than  your  mirror — there! 
But  don't  say  I  told  you — or  my  life  won't  be  worth 
living  I  can  assure  you." 

She  was  ready  to  believe  that  when  she  met  her  three 
colleagues.  "Old  hens"  would  have  suited  them  better 
than  "yellow  ducklings,"  though  the  fat  one — who  was 
also  fair  and  forty  without  her  war  paint — waddled  suf- 
ficiently to  be  suspected  of  webbed  toes.  The  other  two 
were  of  any  age  over  twenty-five ;  the  one  tall,  thin  and 
dark,  the  other  like  a  shrimp — every  bone  snowing  in 
her  neck  and  face — with  restless  eyes  and  an  unceasing 
tongue. 

Zoe  knew  her  beauty  affronted  them  and  roused  envy 
in  their  hearts,  and  guessed  that  she  would  have  any- 
thing but  a  pleasant  time  with  them.  But  she  was  de- 
termined to  stick  to  this  if  she  could — besides,  would 
not  the  men  all  be  on  her  side  ? 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      201 

And  so  she  counted  the  days  to  her  going  and,  con- 
trariwise, she  dreaded  it — for  although  she  was  once  more 
the  gay  butterfly,  with  no  care  for  the  morrow,  and  had 
renewed  the  game  of  letting  men  love  her  while  she 
laughed,  there  were  moments  when  her  longing  for  Roy 
would  not  be  quelled,  when  she  plunged  into  the  bustle 
of  rehearsals,  the  fuss  of  packing,  with  avidity.  She 
did  not  want  to  think  about  him — nor  about  the  little 
mother  down  at  Dunsworth  who  had  never  troubled  to 
come  to  her,  nor  to  send  her  another  farthing  piece. 
She  had  certainly  written  and  asked  Zoe  repeatedly  to 
go  there,  but  the  girl  had  replied  that  her  work  was  just 
as  important  as  teaching  and  that  she  must  therefore 
"husband  her  strength  for  it,"  else  she  might  fall  ill 
and  become  a  burden  again.  To  such  a  Roland  for  her 
Oliver,  Mrs.  Dereham  had  nothing  to  say,  and  accepted 
the  news  of  Zoe's  coming  tour  without  comment.  If 
there  was  time,  she,  Zoe,  she  might  run  down  to  say 
good-by,  though  wasn't  that  rather  silly,  when  she 
was  merely  touring  round  the  coast? 

Sometimes  in  the  dead  of  night,  her  conscience  would 
reproach  her  for  her  heartless  indifference  to  one  who 
had  devoted  her  whole  life  to  her  service — had  sacrificed 
all  for  a  careless  selfish  daughter.  Then  she  resolved 
to  go  to  Dunsworth  by  the  first  train — but  when  morn- 
ing came  that  resolution  flew  away  like  many  another. 

She  had  a  riotous  time  those  last  few  days,  and  proved 
to  the  hilt  the  truth  of  those  words:  "Laugh  and  the 
world  laughs  with  you" — she  forgot  her  bitterness 
towards  Raynor,  her  dawning  belief  in  Gracie's  insinua- 
tions, her  fears  and  doubts  of  all  mankind.  But,  if  she 
ever  paused  to  think,  she  realized  that  this  mad  rushing 
about  and  the  delight  she  experienced  in  the  society  of 
men — all  the  yellow  ducklings  were  at  her  feet,  Raynor 
had  met  her  several  times,  Dan  Parsons  had  supped  with 
her, ."on  the  strict  q.  t.,  lest  the  other  ladies  of  the 


202      THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

company  got  wind  of  it" — were  but  the  shadow  of  a 
happiness  she  coveted,  and  which  she  felt  no  one  but 
Boy  could  ever  give  her.  Then  the  depths  of  her  love 
for  him  seemed  fathomless,  though  a  few  minutes  later 
she  would  be  plotting  and  planning  which  of  the  yellow 
ducklings  should  bask  in  her  smiles,  and  whether  she 
should  see  Raynor  or  Hailey. 

Excepting  when  she  had  called  at  the  theater  to  tell 
him  she  had  got  the  "shop,"  she  had  not  seen  the  burly 
actor  again.  He  had  beamed  kindly  upon  her,  given 
her  a  few  more  words  of  advice  regarding  life  in  a  tour- 
ing company,  wished  her  luck  and  dismissed  her — as  he 
was  due  at  rehearsal. 

It  is  possible  that  if  he  had  realized  the  awful  igno- 
rance of  her  mind — doubly  awful  now  because  of  the 
murky  knowledge  it  was  beginning  to  store  up,  and 
which  no  sweet  wholesomeness  was  ever  to  dispel — he 
might  have  done  more  for  her.  But  he  thought  her 
well  primed  for  the  fight,  with  a  mind  like  an  airy  well- 
swept  room  where  nothing  foul  can  linger,  nothing  evil 
thrive — and  let  her  go.  He  regrets  it  bitterly  now 
when  he  recalls  her  eyes,  so  like  the  little  sister's  to 
whom  help  also  came  too  late. 

Later,  Zoe,  herself,  believed  that  if  she  had  got  into 
his  company  her  life  would  have  had  another  end.  For 
she  might  then  have  learned  the  sacredness  of  the  im- 
mutable laws  of  Nature,  and  her  true  duty  to  herself, 
her  fellows  and  her  God.  One  wonders  how  many  other 
girls  could  say  the  same. 

But  whatever  clouds  were  gathering  around  Zoe  it 
was  pretty  clear  that  she  had  no  suspicion  of  them  now, 
as  she  came  home  late  on  the  afternoon  of  her  last  day 
in  town. 

"You're  back  early,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Toogood,  as  she 
opened  the  door.  "I  thought  you  were  going  to  Duns- 
worth." 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      203 

"No,  I've  changed  my  mind.  It  really  isn't  neces- 
sary. I  only  said  I'd  go  if  I  had  time.  And,  as  you 
know,  I  haven't.  And,  Mrs.  Biddy,  while  I  think  of 
it,  I  want  to  pay  you  what  I  owe  you.  At  least  some. 
I  waited  until  to-day  to  see  if  I  could  manage  it." 

"Sure,  Miss,  there's  no  hurry.     I  can  wait." 

"I've  kept  you  waiting  longer  than  I  like.  So  you 
just  bring  up  your  bill  and  we'll  settle  it.  I  only  ask 
this  in  return:  that  you  let  me  know  at  once  if  ever 
Mr.  Keith  comes  after  I  have  gone — and  if  he  seems 
sorry  to  miss  me — " 

"You'll  know  that  most  as  soon  as  anyone,"  chuckled 
Mrs.  Biddy. 

"How  can  I,  if  I'm  away!"  exclaimed  Zoe,  wonder- 
ing at  her  inexplicable  mirth.  She  had  never  told  Biddy 
that  she  had  seen  Hoy  with  the  fair-haired  girl.  Even 
the  most  communicative  individual  has  an  inner  shrine 
which  none  may  enter. 

"But  you  haven't  gone  yet,  have  you?"  queried  the 
old  woman,  glancing  up  the  stairs  as  though  someone 
were  listening  to  her. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  whispered  Zoe. 

"You  go  up  and  see." 

Joy,  fear,  love  and  anger  sprang  to  Zoe's  eyes  as 
she  ran  breathlessly  upstairs  and  burst  into  her  sitting- 
room  to  fall  straight  into  Keith's  outstretched  arms. 

"Zoe,  Zoe,  I  love  you,  I  love  you!"  he  murmured. 
"Oh,  Zoe,  why?" 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  she  asked,  freeing  her- 
self and  pushing  him  back  roughly. 

"I've  come  to  see  you,  of  course." 

''Why?" 

"Because  I  long  for  my  little  Zoe." 

"Why  haven't  you  come  before?" 

"Oh,  hang  it,  Zoe,  I'm  not  a  bally  school  child  to 
be  catechised  like  this!" 


204  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

"No,  indeed,  you're  nothing  so  nice!"  she  retorted 
passionately.  "You're  a  beast!  You're  cruel  and  un- 
kind! You've  only  come  because  you're  tired  of  your 
grocer's  daughter  who's  as  ugly  as  sin — as  old  as  the 
hills !  Psh !  I  hate  you  and  your  lies ! ' ' 

"Zoe!"    He  looked  hurt  and  surprised. 

"I've  seen  her  with  you!  You  didn't  see  me.  But 
I  saw  you  both — and  she's  young  and  pretty,  and  any- 
thing but  what  you  said." 

"If  I  tell  you  that  you  probably  saw  me  with  my  sis- 
ter—" 

"I  shouldn't  believe  you.  You  said  your  sister  was 
older  and — not  so  pretty  as  myself.  And  this  one  is 
quite — quite  as  nice,  in  her  own  way — " 

"All  the  same,  I  haven't  met  the  grocer's  daughter 
yet — and — " 

"Then,  why  did  you  stay  away — not  answer  my  let- 
ter— make  no  sign?" 

"Because  I  love  you — and  thought  it  best  for  us  both 
to  keep  away.  But  all  the  time  I've  been  longing  to 
see  you,  wondering  what  you  were  doing — " 

"You  never  troubled  what  I  thought — nor  how  I 
felt." 

"I  did — but  I  tried  not  to.  You've  got  into  my  blood ; 
I'm  mad  with  love  for  you.  I've  tried  to  forget  you, 
but  you  haunt  me  morning,  noon  and  night — and  I 
want  you  more  and  more — " 

"You  mustn't  say  that,"  faltered  Zoe,  her  blood 
quickening. 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  you  have  to  marry  that  other — "  The 
tears  swam  in  her  eyes,  she  began  to  tremble. 

"All  the  same  it's  you  I  want — my  Zoe.  You're  mine 
— no  other  man  shall  have  you!" 

He  caught  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her  passion- 
ately. 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      205 

"Leave  me  alone — "  she  whispered. 

"I  can't — I  won't.  I  have  you  now.  You  shall  not 
go  away  and  leave  me.  You  must  stay  for  me — and — " 

A  low  knock  at  the  door  made  her  start  away,  push- 
ing him  hurriedly  aside.  To  her  amazement,  her  mother 
entered  smilingly. 

"As  the  mountain  won't  come  to  Mahomet,  Mahomet 
must  come  to  the  mountain,"  she  said,  as  she  dropped 
on  to  a  chair  and  glanced  inquiringly  at  Roy.  "I  felt 
I  must  see  you  before  you  go  away  again.  "Won't  you 
introduce  your  friend?" 

Keith,  looking  somewhat  sheepish  as  Zoe  introduced 
him,  bowed  and  muttered  something  about  going. 

"Don't  let  me  drive  you  away,"  said  Mrs.  Dereham. 

"You  don't.  I  have  a  lot  to  do.  I'm  off  to  Ire- 
land— in  the  morning, — at  least,  I  think  I  am." 

He  did  not  look  at  Zoe  as  he  spoke,  though  he  must 
have  guessed  she  was  surprised.  Considering  he  had 
just  asked  her  to  stay  in  town  for  him,  he  could  not 
mean  this  really.  He  would  come  back  later — and  ex- 
plain; come  back  and  finish  telling  her  of  his  love. 
Even  while  her  eyes  noted  the  terrible  change  in  her 
mother,  she  was  wishing  with  all  her  heart  that  she  had 
stayed  away.  She  followed  him  to  the  door  with  a  care- 
less good-by,  and  came  back  feeling  that  all  brightness 
had  vanished  from  the  room. 

"And  now  tell  me  all — all — "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Dere- 
ham. "I  haven't  seen  you  since  you  came  back  from 
Folkestone — though  we  are  barely  ten  miles  apart !  Do 
you  really  like  the  work  better  than  teaching?" 

"Rather!"  exclaimed  Zoe.  "I'd  rather  starve  than 
teach  again.  When  I  was  tramping  about  for  work 
and  couldn't  get  anything,  I  wouldn't  have  done  it 
for — for — "  She  faltered,  seeing  that  her  mother  had 
pricked  her  ears  and  was  looking  intently  into  her  face. 

"When   was   that?"   she   asked.     "When   were   you 


206      THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

tramping  about  for  work?  "Was  that  when  you  wrote 
you  were  getting  on  and — ?  But  of  course  it  was.  Oh, 
my  poor  little  girl!  You  didn't  want  me  to  worry — 
you  guessed  I  couldn  't  help  you  and  I  believed  you — and 
all  the  time  you  were  in  want — perhaps —  You  did  that 
for  me, — and  I  was  thinking  you  just  a  thoughtless  lit- 
tle girl  who  didn't  much  care  for  her  poor  old 
mother—" 

"Don't  say  that!  I  do — I  do — and  I've  been  horrid. 
I  wouldn't  come  because  of  my  stupid  feelings.  I  didn't 
want  to  see  you  and — and  if  I  was  hard  up  it  was  my 
fault — I  wasted  my  money — " 

Zoe,  impulsive  as  ever — and  truer  than  usual  to  her 
better  nature — flung  herself  on  her  knees  by  her  mother 
and  clung  to  her.  She  loved  her — and  she  had  been 
horrid!  She  meant  to  do  heaps  for  her  and  she  had 
done  nothing — but  now — now  things  would  be  differ- 
ent. She  had  a  good  "shop"  and  when  she  had  paid  all 
she  owed — 

"What  do  you  owe?"  caught  up  her  mother,  the  hor- 
ror of  debt  in  her  eyes. 

"Nothing  to  speak  of—" 

"Tell  me  all — I  shall  not  go  until  you  do — and  the 
the  truth,  Zoe — I  can  help  you — I  have  received  one  or 
two  good  checks  lately — though  I  regret  to  say  they're 
the  last  I  shall  have  from  those  pupils — but  of  course 
one  can't  keep  them  forever!  So  you  must  tell  me — 
everything — promise  me  that." 

Zoe  told  her  of  her  debt  to  Biddy  Toogood,  her  loan 
from  Hailey ;  how  she  had  had  to  buy  this  and  that  for 
her  new  post;  how  she  had  just  enough  to  keep  herself 
until  she  got  more  next  week — she  said  nothing  about 
paying  Biddy  first.  Now  she  saw  a  chance  of  clear- 
ing herself  of  monetary  worries,  she  no  longer  wished 
to  hide  anything.  And  she  really  believed  that  some 
feeling  of  consideration  for  her  mother  had  made  her 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      207 

struggle  on  alone — yes,  she  really  believed  it  and  was 
glad  her  mother  did.  Of  course,  she  wouldn't  have  told 
all  even  now  if  her  mother  hadn't  said  she  had  plenty 
of  money,  as  though  she  expected  to  have  to  pay  out 
a  lot.  And  of  course  it  meant  a  sermon — she  quite  ex- 
pected that. 

And  when  she  had  told  of  the  wrong  of  borrowing 
from  strange  men — why? — well,  because  no  one  did  it — 
no  one  nice  at  all  events, — Mrs.  Dereham  took  Hailey's 
address  and  asked  for  Biddy's  bill.  And  then  she  re- 
ferred to  Keith.  His  presence  in  Zoe's  room  had  trou- 
bled her — although  she  had  heard  from  the  old  woman 
downstairs  that  he  was  all  that  he  should  be.  But  such 
friendships  made  people  talk.  The  Jacob  affair  proved 
how  a  purely  innocent  matter  could  be  distorted  into 
an  evil  one.  Her  darling  must  promise  not  to  let  men 
visit  her — not  that  she  didn't  trust  her,  but  because 
men  were  not  to  be  trusted  any  more  than  the  tongues 
of  neighbors.  Why  not?  Well,  one  had  to  remembei* 
that  there  was  a  difference  between  men  and  women. 
And,  however  charming  Keith  was,  a  girl  could  not  fa- 
vor one  man  more  than  another  without  running  risks 
— and  the  gamut  of  evil  tongues.  Yes,  she  agreed  that 
girls  were  stupid — that  their  conversation  was  limited 
and  boring,  but  it  would  be  wiser  to  put  up  with  it  than 
to  be  considered  fast. 

It  was  the  usual  twaddle,  guarded  and  mystifying, 
many  well-meaning  women  talk — the  chamber  of  horrors 
they  hint  at  being  often  nothing  but  a  roomful  of  in- 
offensive dummies  in  whom  one's  interest  would  die  at 
sight.  But  it  sent  Zoe's  thoughts  helter-skelter  to 
Gracie's  words,  and  as  she  put  on  her  hat  to  go  out  with 
her  mother,  her  puzzled  eyes  asked  of  the  equally  trou- 
bled one  in  the  glass:  "Why?  Why?  Why?" 

They  dined  at  a  quiet  little  restaurant  not  far  from 
the  station,  where  presently  Zoe  saw  her  mother  off, 


208  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

with  many  promises  to  write,  to  be  good,  to  borrow  from 
no  man. 

Then,  feeling  much  like  a  schoolboy  released  after  be- 
ing kept  in,  she  hurried  back  to  Berners  Street,  hoping 
to  find  Keith  there. 

But  he  was  not  there,  nor  did  he  come.  She  sobbed 
half  through  the  night,  and  slept  so  heavily  towards 
morning  that  she  only  joined  the  Yellow  Ducklings  as 
their  train  was  about  to  start, 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  Yellow  Ducklings  opened  to  a  good  house  on 
the  Monday,  and  Zoe's  dancing  and  singing  were 
certainly  among  their  best  items.  But  as  their  experi- 
ences were  much  the  same  as  those  of  similar  companies 
— barn-like  rooms,  dreary  shelters,  tawdry  theaters,  and 
sparse  or  dwindling  audiences, — it  would  be  waste  of 
time  to  enlarge  upon  them.  Others  have  written  of 
such  things,  more  than  enough.  So,  too,  of  squabbles 
and  jealousies  like  those  Zoe  was  subjected  to  from  the 
first.  In  real  life,  as  in  fiction,  the  prettiest  girl  has 
generally  a  bad  time  with  her  own  sex. 

Suffice  it  to  say,  therefore,  that  the  Yellow  Ducklings, 
— although  no  worse  and  no  better  than  many  other 
troupes  who  have  weathered  the  storms  of  years, — were 
destined  never  to  take  to  the  water  after  the  manner 
of  their  kind.  One  can  hardly  explain  why.  It  may 
be  that  Dan  Parsons  lacked  the  charm  and  originality 
of  the  man  he  so  obviously  wished  to  be  taken  for,  and 
thus  aroused  resentment  in  the  breasts  of  his  hearers 
who  might  have  suffered  him  willingly  as  himeslf;  or 
that  the  audiences  in  the  places  they  visited  were  more 
exacting  and  sophisticated  than  one  expects  seaside  au- 
diences to  be,  or  again  that  discord  in  the  camp  sowed 
discontent  without.  Whatever  the  cause  the  fact  re- 
mains that,  after  a  more  or  less  disastrous  five  weeks, 
Zoe  found  herself  stranded  at  Scarborough  with  two 
weeks'  salary  owing  and  the  clause,  no  work  no  pay, 
applicable  to  at  least  four  days  of  that. 

Like  the  grasshopper  of  the  fable,  she  had  nothing  by 
her.  She  had  been  so  sure  that  the  morrow  would  take 

209 


210  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

care  of  itself,  had  taken  her  experiences  in  town  so  lit- 
tle to  heart,  that  she  was  in  greater  difficulties  than 
ever.  Money  is  said  to  burn  holes  in  some  pockets;  it 
certainly  did  in  Zoe's.  The  moment  she  received  it  she 
was  in  a  fever  to  spend  it  on  dress,  on  food,  or  what- 
ever whim  she  had  at  the  moment.  Her  hunger  for 
the  good  things  of  the  earth  was  all  the  greater  because 
of  its  repression  during  the  lean  years  of  childhood. 
And  the  salary  which  had  seemed  adequate  in  theory 
was  anything  but  sufficient  in  practice.  It  had  been 
supplemented  by  several  relays  by  her  mother,  but  now, 
although  she  had  written  to  tell  of  their  disaster,  she 
had  received  no  reply,  and  reflected  bitterly  that  there 
was  no  danger  of  her  borrowing  from  a  man,  as  the  few 
she  knew  in  Scarborough  were  as  poor  as  herself. 
Moreover,  they  were  all  fair-weather  friends — the  type 
to  lark  about  with,  to  tease,  to  kiss  perhaps,  but  cer- 
tainly not  to  confide  in.  She  had  learnt  a  great  deal 
since  she  left  London,  and  knew  that  her  mother's  warn- 
ings had  been  justified.  But  for  all  that  she  was  strong 
enough  to  take  care  of  herself.  There  was  only  one 
man  in  whose  presence  she  felt  like  wax,  and  that  was 
because  she  loved  him.  Yes — she  loved  him,  although 
he  had  kept  away  and  only  written  once  from  Dublin. 
Why  had  he  left  her  like  that?  She  called  herself 
horrid,  and  base,  and  everything  despicable  under  the 
sun,  but  she  could  not  help  thinking  that  it  was  the 
shabby  genteel  appearance  of  her  mother  which  had 
frightened  him  away. 

She  had  just  had  a  stormy  argument  with  her  land- 
lady, who  was  the  antithesis  of  Biddy  Toogood,  and  was 
feeling  utterly  depressed  at  her  impotency  when  there 
was  a  knock  at  the  door.  "Come  in,"  she  cried,  and 
in  walked  Lydia  Haynes,  one  of  her  late  colleagues. 
She  had  taken  a  fancy  to  Zoe,  who  had  helped  her  with 
some  French  songs  and  nursed  her  through  a  cold. 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      211 

"I've  come  to  see  how  you're  getting  on,"  she  said, 
smiling.  "And  if  you're  doing  nothing,  I  want  you 
to  come  out  and  have  some  tea." 

Zoe,  who  had  touched  nothing  since  the  morning, 
when  a  weak  cup  of  tea  and  a  crust  had  done  their  best 
to  stem  her  hunger,  looked  suspiciously  at  Lydia,  who 
had  seemed  as  hard  up  as  herself. 

"No,  thanks.    I've  had  tea — "  she  stammered. 

"Of  course,  but  you  can  eat  another.  It's  my  party 
— birthday,  if  you  like — I've  asked  the  others  to  meet 
us  at  the  Orchid  Rooms — high  tea  it  is — cutlets  and 
sweetbreads." 

Zoe's  mouth  watered — she  felt  faint  with  hunger. 
The  smell  of  the  landlady's  bloater  had  nearly  sent  her 
mad  a  little  while  ago. 

"Is  it  your  birthday?"  she  asked. 

"In  a  sort  of  way.  Or  funeral,  if  you  like.  For 
I've  got  a  'shop'  and  go  to  London  by  the  six-thirty." 

"Oh,  Lydia— I'm  so  glad—" 

"Well,  show  it  by  putting  on  your  hat — and  com- 
ing." 

"I  will — but  I'm  not  hungry." 

"Never  mind  that,  nor  am  I — but  I  daresay  the  oth- 
ers are.  I  tried  to  get  Dan,  but  he  won't  show  his 
face.  He's  ashamed,  poor  fellow — he  knows  he's  got 
us  into  a  hole,  and  can't  help  us  out — and  he's  starving 
himself—" 

"Starving— Dan!" 

"Well,  why  not?     Doesn't  he  owe  us  all  money?" 

Zoe  looked  disappointed.  She  had  felt  sure  Lydia 
had  got  her  salary  and  was  beginning  to  hope  that  hers 
was  also  coming. 

"I  know  what  you're  thinking,"  said  Lydia,  "but 
you  may  as  well  say  good-by  to  that  money — and  tod- 
dle home  with  me." 

"Oh,    I    can't!    I'm    expecting    a    letter    from   my 


212  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

mother — "  began  Zoe,  coloring  hotly  as  she  turned  to 
the  glass  and  put  on  her  hat  she  had  just  taken  out  of 
a  drawer. 

Lydia  eyed  her  enviously  and  sighed. 

"I  like  your  pluck,"  she  said  slowly.  "If  I  had  one 
ounce  of  it,  I  shouldn't  be  going  where  I  am — " 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Zoe,  turning  suddenly. 
"Don't  you  want  to  go,  then?" 

"I  do  and  I  don't.  It's  a  job  I've  refused  a  dozen 
times  or  more — but  I'm  going  now  just  because  I  can't 
put  up  with  this  kind  of  life  any  longer.  After  all, 
I've  stood  it  six  years — and  I'm  sick  of  it.  So  I  wired 
to  somebody  who — somebody  I  know.  And  this  morn- 
ing the  money  came — look!" 

She  opened  her  purse.    Zoe  saw  gold,  gold,  gold! 

"Oh!"  she  gasped,  her  eyes  searching  Lydia 's  face 
inquiringly.  Lydia  shrank  back  with  a  little  laugh. 

"And  there's  more  where  it  comes  from!"  she  ex- 
claimed, her  voice  shrill  with  excitement.  "More  and 
more!  I'll  never  starve  again  if  I  know  it.  I've  been 
a  fool  for  so  long.  It's  bad  pay — sweating — low  wages 
— salaries  we  never  get — and  the  like  that  send  us  girls 
where  we'd  never  go  through  any  fault  of  our  own — 
but — for  all  that,  don't  you  take  to  the  life — " 

"What  life?"  asked  Zoe,  awed  by  the  other's  face. 

"The  life  you  never  come  back  from  once  you  take 
to  it — where  people — women  especially — make  you  stay, 
and  hate  you — and  look  on  you  as  dirt.  And  you'd 
feel  worse  than  any,  'cause  you're  of  gentle  blood.  But 
there,  what  am  I  saying?  I  forget  what  a  baby  you 
are!" 

"I'm  not  a  baby!" 

"You  are — and  a  naughty  one,  too.  You  play  with 
fire.  I've  often  watched  you  wondering  when  you  would 
get  burnt.  But  you're  either  very  cute  or  you've  got 
a  jolly  good  guardian  angel  to — " 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      213 

"What  do  you  mean?  Tell  me — tell  me — "  inter- 
rupted Zoe,  seizing  her  by  the  arm. 

"Shall  I — shall  I?"  teased  Lydia.  "Are  you  sure 
you're  as  innocent  as  you  look — that  you  won't  turn 
from  me  afterwards  as  though  I'm  not  fit  to  come  near 
you — " 

"Of  course  I  sha'n't,  silly— tell!" 

Lydia  hesitated,  blushed,  tossed  her  head,  and  told  her 
story  in  a  few  words.  She  ended  with  an  appealing 
glance  at  the  silent,  white-faced  girl. 

"I  oughtn't  to  have  told  you,  but  you  made  me,"  she 
murmured. 

To  her  amazement  Zoe  burst  into  tears  and  threw  her- 
self into  her  arms. 

"Oh,  you  poor,  poor  thing!"  she  sobbed.  "Why 
should  I  turn  from  you  ?  Besides,  you  haven 't  gone  yet 
— you  won't  go!" 

Lydia  laughed  and  tossed  her  head. 

"I'm  going  right  enough — I  want  to  enjoy  life — to 
have  nice  clothes  and  good  food  and  a  bed  to  lie  down 
in  without  worrying  about  the  rent.  I  hate  poverty — 
and  makeshifts.  What  have  we  done  to  deserve 
that?" 

Zoe  wiped  her  eyes,  thrilling  with  sympathy.  She 
understood  only  too  well  what  Lydia  felt — and  the  shock 
of  what  she  had  heard,  coupled  with  her  misery  and 
hunger,  made  her  feel  too  faint-hearted  to  say  more. 
But  throughout  the  meal — when  the  remaining  members 
of  the  disbanded  troupe,  whose  funds  had  not  yet  en- 
abled them  to  move  on,  tried  to  hide  the  ache  of  an 
empty  stomach,  and  a  still  more  empty  purse,  by  light 
cynicism  and  gay  banter,  she  kept  her  eyes  on  Lydia. 
What  was  this  life  she  was  going  to — where  purses  were 
crammed  with  gold  and  one  was  never  hungry?  What 
the  little  Lydia  had  said  had  not  enlightened  her  at 
all  as  to  the  consequences  of  sin — she  only  saw  the  temp- 


214  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

tation  as  Lydia  saw  it — the  ending  of  a  life  of  privation 
in  the  lap  of  luxury,  at  the  cost  of  what? — the  disap- 
proval of  the  well-fed  and  well-dressed,  of  people  like 
Mrs.  Broome-Taylor  and  her  kind — of  simple-minded 
women  like  her  mother.  She  knew  so  little  and  yet 
she  guessed  so  much,  that  she  tingled  all  over  with 
shame  when  the  others  asked  what  Lydia 's  new  "shop" 
was,  and  she  retorted  that  she  wasn't  going  to  give  them 
the  chance  of  sneaking  it  from  her,  by  telling  them. 

But  when  they  had  seen  her  off  at  the  station  and 
sung  "For  he's  a  jolly  good  fellow"  and  made  quite 
a  commotion  on  the  platform,  she  had  turned  away  with 
tears  in  her  eyes  and  a  wild  envy  in  her  heart — wonder- 
ing why  Lydia  cried  so,  Lydia  who  was  going  to  enjoy 
life  as  she  had  never  enjoyed  it  before. 

Ah!     If  only  she  had  the  chance! 

May  Morton,  the  stout  contralto  who  was  going  north 
the  next  day,  to  join  another  company,  had  just  asked 
her  what  she  meant  to  do,  when  suddenly  she  saw  Ray- 
nor  coming  from  the  booking  office,  his  face  beaming 
with  smiles.  She  darted  towards  him  with  a  little 
scream  of  delight. 

"So  poor  little  Zoe  has  ceased  to  quack  for  bread," 
he  laughed,  as  he  took  her  outstretched  hands. 

"It's  been  awful — awful — "  she  sobbed. 

' '  I  was  afraid — that 's  why  I  kept  my  eye  on  your 
movements,  and  came  down.  And  just  as  we  were  pass- 
ing the  station  I  saw  you  with  those  others." 

"You  came  on  purpose  to  see  me?"  she  interrupted, 
in  astonishment. 

"For  what  other  reason  does  little  Zoe  think  I'm 
here?" 

"I  don't  know — but  it  seemed  too  good  to  be  true. 
Everybody  has  forgotten  me — my  mother — Ho — 
everybody — " 

"Well,  I  haven't — although  you  haven't  always  been 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      215 

very  kind  to  me, ' '  he  smiled,  slipping  his  hand  through  her 
arm  and  leading  her  towards  a  beautiful  gray  motor-car 
waiting  just  outside  the  station.  "Get  in,  my  child,  and 
tell  me  where  you  lodge." 

And  he  whisked  her  away  almost  before  she  realized 
it,  before  the  wondering  eyes  of  May  Morton  and  the 
others. 

"Little  Zoe — little  Zoe,  it's  nice  to  see  you  again," 
he  murmured,  slipping  his  arm  round  her  and  draw- 
ing her  gently  to  him.  And  she  yielded  willingly.  He 
was  good  and  kind  when  all  the  world  seemed  hard — 
and  the  touch  of  his  arm  was  soothing — and — it  was 
nice  to  be  loved  again. 

Before  they  reached  the  small  street  with  its  rows 
of  ugly  houses,  all  with  the  same  dingy  look,  the  same 
lace  curtains,  the  same  card  in  almost  every  window 
announcing  that  apartments  were  to  be  had,  he  had 
heard  all  she  had  to  tell — had,  by  his  fatherly  air,  ban- 
ished all  feeling  of  distrust  from  her  mind,  and  won 
her  promise  to  let  him  take  her  back  to  town  that  night 
— back  to  Biddy  Toogood  if  she  liked — though  he  knew 
of  nicer  rooms  than  hers. 

"Do  you  mean  near  Madame  Dardino's?"  she  asked, 
a  little  nervously.  "Will  Madame  Dardino  be — ' 

"Don't  you  bother  your  pretty  head  about  our  dear 
friend — she's  gone  abroad." 

"Abroad!    But  you—" 

"I've  been  left  behind,  as  you  see.  And  I'm  glad, 
for  I  can  look  after  you,  though  at  first  I  was  just  as 
— as  surprised  as  you  are, — but  there,  one  doesn't  ex- 
pect gratitude  from  women." 

"How  can  you  say  that?  I'm  grateful  enough,  I 
know." 

"You  shall  prove  it  to  me  later — eh?"  he  smiled. 
"As  for  the  rooms,  I'll  tell  you  all  about  them  presently. 
Here's  your  street,  and  I'll  leave  you  for  half  an  hour 


216  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

— that'll  be  enough  for  your  packing  and  settling  up 
with  your  landlady?" 

"Yes — but —  If  my  letter  hasn't  come,  she'll — 
she'll — "  She  faltered  painfully.  The  words  "I  can- 
not dig,  to  beg  I  am  ashamed,"  jumped  to  her  mind. 
He  understood  at  once,  and  pulled  some  money  from 
his  pocket. 

"Oh,  of  course — here  you  are — you  must  have  the 
wherewithal,  mustn't  you?  Now,  don't  be  silly — we're 
friends,  aren't  we?  If  it  makes  you  happier,  I'll  let 
you  pay  me  back  some  day.  And  look  here,  if  you  want 
to  leave  an  address,  you'd  better  give  Berners  Street." 

The  letter  had  not  come,  but  she  was  too  excited 
to  mind.  For  the  moment  Raynor  was  the  nicest  crea- 
ture in  the  land,  the  kindest.  It  was  sweet  of  him 
to  think  of  her,  when  he  must  be  feeling  so  wretched 
about  Dardino — but  she  would  be  as  nice  as  possible 
to  help  him  to  forget. — And  they  were  going  all  the  way 
by  car,  and,  for  a  time,  she  could  imagine  that  all 
this  luxury  was  really  hers. 

She  paid  no  attention  to  the  landlady's  veiled  re- 
marks and  sneering  manner,  and  was  ready  and  wait- 
ing, with  all  her  old  light-heartedness,  long  before  the 
gray  car  came  skimming  down  the  road.  Lydia  was  not 
the  only  one  who  meant  to  enjoy  life ! — 

She  looked  furtively  at  Raynor  as  he  smoked  con- 
tentedly by  her  side.  If  only  he  were  Roy !  But  after 
all,  as  lie  had  forgotten  her  again,  he  wasn't  worth  re- 
calling, and  any  nice  man  was  better  than  none! 

"What  is  little  Zoe  thinking  about  so  solemnly?" 
asked  Raynor  suddenly,  throwing  away  his  cigarette  and 
moving  closer  to  her. 

"First,  about  the  rooms  you  mentioned — "  she  fal- 
tered. 

"And  then?" 

"About  the  time  we'd  get  to  London." 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      217 

"Does  that  matter  very  much — " 

"No— only— "  She  hesitated.  This  was  the  first 
time  she  had  realized  how  far  off  London  really  was. 

"We  might  have  to  put  up  on  the  way,"  he  ventured. 
"There  are  good  hotels  at  York  and  Doncaster — and  in 
between  as  well.  Bunting  is  a  good  chauffeur,  but — he 
can't  go  on  forever.  He's  been  driving  all  day,  as  it 
is.  Though  I  ask  nothing  better  than  to  sit  like  this 
for  hours,"  he  murmured,  slipping  his  arm  round 
her  again.  "For  I  love  little  Zoe,  I  love  her — love 
her!" 

She  tried  to  speak,  but  her  tongue  failed  her,  whilst 
the  luxuriance  of  the  car,  the  rapid  traveling  through 
the  fresh  air  made  her  feel  drowsy  and  unwilling  to 
move. 

"And  I'm  going  to  take  care  of  her,"  he  went  on, 
his  lips  close  to  her  ear.  ' '  She 's  never  going  to  be  poor 
again — never  going  to  live  in  horrid  stuffy  rooms — 
never  going  to  want — for  she's  my  Zoe — my  very,  very 
own,  isn't  she?" 

She  heard  it  all  as  in  a  dream;  she  had  not  slept  for 
nights.  His  face  above  hers  gave  way  to  Roy's.  She 
smiled  back  through  half-closed  eyes  and  nodded 
sleepily.  This  was  good — life  would  never  be  hard 
again. 

Zoe  slept  until  they  got  to  Doncaster.  They  had  come 
at  lightning  speed.  The  sudden  stop  and  burr  of  the 
machine,  coupled  with  the  sound  of  many  voices,  pierced 
her  subconsciousness  and  she  awoke,  starting  up  and 
looking  round  her  with  bewilderment. 

The  car  had  stopped  at  the  hotel — a  vista  of  a  long 
hall  with  massive  furniture,  and  tall  palms,  opened  be- 
fore her,  and  she  stumbled  into  it  sleepily  and  dropped 
onto  a  chair  whilst  Raynor  ordered  dinner  and  rooms. 
A  trim  chamber-maid  came  and  took  her  upstairs,  asked 


218  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

if  there  was  anything  she  could  do,  and  left  her 
ingly,  saying  that  dinner  would  be  ready  in  a  few 
minutes. 

Dinner!  The  word  recalled  the  poor  apology  for  the 
meal  she  had  had  during  the  last  week,  and  made  her 
hurry  more  than  anything  else.  She  was  conscious  of 
having  felt  disappointed  to  see  Raynor  when  she  awoke, 
instead  of  Roy,  but  the  thought  of  dinner  was,  for  the 
moment,  greater  than  anything  else.  She  washed, 
brushed  her  hair,  and  went  down  feeling  a  little  awed 
by  the  hugeness  of  the  place,  which  was  practically 
empty,  and  a  little  fearful  of  the  shabbiness  of  her 
dress. 

Raynor  was  waiting  in  the  hall.  He  met  her  at  the 
foot  of  the  stairs. 

"You  look  rested  now,"  he  smiled.  "Quite  a  differ- 
ent Zoe.  I  shouldn't  have  thought  you  could  sleep  so 
soundly." 

"I'm  sorry — "  she  faltered.  "But  I  was  tired.  It 
was  dreadfully  rude  of  me,  I  know." 

"Not  at  all.  I  enjoyed  watching  you — you're  almost 
as  pretty  asleep  as  awake — not  quite,  because  one  can- 
not see  those  wonderful  eyes." 

She  blushed  hotly — and  glanced  apprehensively  at  the 
waiter.  He  appeared  not  to  have  heard,  but  the  admi- 
ration in  his  eyes  showed  plainly  what  he  thought — 
and  she  found  herself  glancing  at  him  again,  to  see  if 
the  look  were  still  there. 

Although  the  dinner  was  a  typically  English  one — 
stodgy  and  badly  cooked — she  enjoyed  it  immensely, 
and  chatted  brilliantly  between  the  courses.  Fearing 
that  Raynor  might  think  her  greedy,  she  gave  an  amus- 
ing description  of  her  meals  in  the  pokey  room  at  Scar- 
borough, and  of  the  tea  at  the  Orchid  Rooms  which 
had  merely  broken  her  fast  without  satisfying  her  ap- 
petite. But  that  brought  Lydia  and  her  parting  tears 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      219 

so  vividly  to  mind  that  she  stopped  abruptly  and  looked 
at  him  inquiringly. 

"What's  up?"  he  asked. 

"Nothing— I— I—" 

"Now,  look  here,"  he  smiled,  filling  up  her  glass  with 
champagne,  "you're  not  to  brood  or  look  like  that. 
Your  bad  times  are  over — put  them  behind  you  for- 
ever. ' ' 

"Why?—" 

"Because  I  say  so — I  love  you  and  you  love  me,  don't 
you?" 

"I  don't  think  I  shall  say,"  she  murmured  coquet- 
tishly.  "It  isn't  proper  here." 

He  burst  out  laughing  and  beckoned  the  waiter. 

"Coffee  and  liquors  upstairs,"  he  said. 

Zoe  looked  surprised.  She  glanced  at  the  clock.  It 
was  ten  already.  Were  they  going  on,  or  staying?  No 
— they  couldn't  possibly  go  on,  explained  Raynor — it 
was  too  late.  Bunting  was  tired.  They  had  come  far 
enough  that  day.  Time  was  their  own. 

All  this  whilst  they  were  going  upstairs  to  the  sitting- 
room  adjoining  the  bedroom  where  she  had  taken  off  her 
hat,  and  the  lovely  coat  he  had  lent  her.  And  she  lis- 
tened without  minding  very  much.  This  was  a  real 
adventure — and  what  a  change  to  last  night !  Wouldn  't 
Dardino  be  cross  if  she  knew — wouldn't  others  be 
shocked! — She  only  wished  Rachel  could  see  her — and 
Roy,  who  had  run  away  after  professing  to  love  her. 

She  stepped  on  her  skirt  and  tore  it  as  they  reached 
the  landing.  He  laughed  at  her  disconsolate  expres- 
sion and  kissed  her  ear.  A  little  shiver  ran  through 
her  at  the  touch — she  thrilled  as  he  said  he  would  buy 
her  another  gown  to-morrow,  and  another — as  many  as 
she  liked. 

"How  do  you  know  I  shall  let  you?"  she  asked,  with 
her  sidelong  glance. 


220  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

He  squeezed  her  arm  and  drew  her  quickly  into  the 
room. 

' '  How  do  I  know  ?  Because,  for  one  thing,  you  won 't 
like  to  hurt  me,  will  you?  For  another,  you're  a  grate- 
ful little  girl.  And  then  you  love  pretty  things,  which 
is  only  natural.  A  lovely  darling  like  you  ought  to 
have  nothing  but  beautiful  things  around  her — lovely 
gowns  and  priceless  jewels,  plenty  of  money  to  spend 
and  someone  to  love  and  worship  her — as  I  do  you — 
you,  Zoe!" 

Her  eyes  widened,  her  heart  began  to  sing.  He 
wanted  to  marry  her,  to  marry  her,  to  marry  her!  To 
give  her  beautiful  things — plenty  of  money  to  spend! 

And  then  she  saw  Lydia's  purse — the  gleam  of  gold! 

And,  then  she  heard  Lydia's  words:  ''Don't  you 
take  to  the  life — you'll  feel  it  more  because  you're  of 
'gentle  birth.'  " 

But  wasn't  it  because  she  was  of  "gentle  birth"  that 
she  so  loathed  her  poverty,  the  unrefinement  of  her 
present  life?  Could  that  other — so  veiled  in  mystery 
— be  worse?  Didn't  people — especially  women — al- 
ready treat  her  like  dirt? — And  she,  too,  wanted  to 
enjoy  life,  to  have  nice  clothes  and  good  food,  and  a 
bed  to  lie  down  upon,  without  worrying  about  the 
rent — 

She  looked  into  his  ardent  face,  her  own  full  of  ap- 
peal. 

"Why  does  my  Zoe  look  like  that?"  he  asked  kindly. 

"I — don't  know — I — I — "  She  bowed  her  head  and 
began  to  cry. 

"Don't,  my  darling,"  he  whispered,  taking  her  in 
his  arms,  "for  I  love  my  little  Zoe — I  love  her!" 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

IT  was  late  the  next  afternoon  when  Raynor's  car 
drew  up  outside  the  house  in  Berners  Street  and  Zoe 
got  out.  Peeping  Johnnies  might  have  seen  that  she 
was  unaccompanied,  that  she  had  a  suppressed  look  of 
excitement  on  her  face — red  rims  around  her  eyes.  But 
Mrs.  Toogood  was  too  surprised  to  notice  much  as  she 
opened  the  door,  exclaiming: 

"Well,  I  never,  Miss  Zoe!  But  I'm  glad  to  see  you, 
Miss.  And  your  rooms — " 

"I  haven't  come  to  stay,  Mrs.  Biddy.  Only  to  see 
if  you  have  any  letters  for  me.  I'm  expecting  one  and 
told  them  to  send  it  here — I  knew  you  wouldn't  mind." 

"My  life,  no!"  exclaimed  the  old  woman,  her  eyes 
coming  back  from  the  scrutiny  of  the  car  and  its  gray- 
clad  chauffeur  to  look  more  carefully  at  Zoe.  "It's 
here — awaiting  for  you.  It  came  this  morning,  least- 
ways one  did — now  there 're  two." 

She  had  thrown  open  the  front-room  door  and  Zoe 
walked  in  eagerly,  her  heart  leaping  at  the  news.  Could 
Roy  have  written  at  last? 

Yes — there  was  his  handwriting  on  an  envelope,  for- 
warded from  this  house.  It  had  evidently  been  follow- 
ing her  for  some  time. 

"You  see,"  said  Biddy,  as  Zoe  turned  it  over  with 
trembling  fingers,  "I  sent  this  off  as  soon's  it  came. 
But  it  never  caught  you  up.  I  might  as  well  have  kept 
it  here,  mightn't  I?" 

But  Zoe  paid  no  heed.  She  had  opened  it  and  was 
reading  hurriedly  through  tear-dimmed  eyes — reading 
as  a  drowning  man  might  clutch  a  straw — or  a  starving 

221 


222  THE  LURE  OP  THE  FLAME 

other  eat  an  unexpected  meal,  making  no  pretense  to 
conceal  his  hunger.  And  as  she  read  the  look  of  de- 
spair deepened  in  her  face.  For  he  loved  her — had  only 
left  her,  that  last  night  in  town,  because  he  loved  her 
so — was  returning  shortly,  burning  with  love  for  her. 

She  forgot  where  she  was, — the  waiting  woman  be- 
side her,  the  letter  she  had  not  yet  opened — and  sat 
motionless,  facing  her  moment  of  utter  misery. 

All  have  such  moments  in  their  lives,  when  the  soul 
flounders  blindly  through  the  eddying  waters  of  despair 
— when  it  goes  down  in  fear  and  agony  to  the  very  bed- 
rock of  bitterness,  emerging  weak,  hardspent,  broken. 
To  many  such  moments  come  but  once  in  a  lifetime,  but 
Zoe  was  to  face  them  again  and  again,  until  at  last 
her  numbed  soul  sank  to  rise  no  more. 

It  was  Biddy's  voice  which  called  her  back  now. 

"I  knew  you'd  be  glad,"  she  was  saying,  "and  I  did 
so  hope  it  wouldn't  get  there  too  late." 

Too  late ! 

Zoe  gave  a  bitter  little  laugh  as  she  replied : 

"How  could  it  be  too  late  when  I  didn't  expect  it? 
This  is  the  one  I  wanted — it's  from  my  mother,  though 
why  my  landlady  put  it  in  another  envelope  instead 
of  readdressing  it  is  more  than  I  can  say.  She  wasn't 
as  nice  as  you,  Mrs.  Biddy — nothing  like.  You've 
spoilt  me  terribly  for  the  usual  lodging-house  keeper — 
they're  so — " 

She  stopped  in  amazement  as  the  envelope  revealed 
an  orange  colored  one  and  a  badly  written  letter  which 
she  started  to  read  as  she  pulled  out  the  telegram. 

"Dear  Miss,"  it  ran,  "this  came  a  few  minutes  after 
you  left.  I  took  the  liberty  to  open  it  in  case  I  could 
do  something.  I'm  sorry  it's  such  bad  news." 

Zoe  read  no  further,  the  slip  of  pink  paper  was  in 
her  hand: 

"Come  at  once.     Mother  sinking  rapidly." 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      223 

Biddy  Toogood,  who  had  been  watching  with  a  fright- 
ened look  in  her  eyes,  faded  from  her  view  and  the  room 
swam  round. 

"What's  the  matter,  Miss?"  asked  the  woman  anx- 
iously. 

"It's  my  mother — she's  dying — she's  dying — " 
gasped  Zoe,  making  for  the  door. 

Mrs.  Toogood  followed  her  with  consoling  words : 

"Oh,  p'r'aps  not,  Miss.  Them  telegraphs  are  things 
I  just  detest.  They  never  tell  the  truth,  really — -it 
costs  too  much." 

Zoe  had  reached  the  car  and  was  making  an  impas- 
sioned appeal  to  Bunting.  Would  he  take  her  at  once 
to  Dunsworth?  It  would  be  quicker  than  the  train. 
Her  mother  was  dying — she  might  even  be  too  late, 
for  she  ought  to  have  gone  yesterday. 

He  hesitated.  Mr.  Raynor  was  a  good  master,  but 
an  exacting  one.  It  was  all  his  place  was  worth  for 
him  to  disobey  like  that.  Mr.  Raynor  had  given  them 
half  an  hour  to  come  here  and  pick  him  up  at  his  club 
— besides,  they  had  all  the  luggage  with  them — they 
ought  to  go  to  him  first.  It  would  only  take  a  few  min- 
utes to  drive  into  Pall  Mall  and — 

"No — no — I  won't!"  exclaimed  Zoe,  stamping  her 
foot.  "There's  no  time  to  be  lost — take  me  to  Charing 
Cross." 

"But,  Miss—" 

"We  haven't  been  half  an  hour — there's  time  for 
that — "  retorted  Zoe,  stumbling  into  the  car.  She  had 
forgotten  Mrs.  Toogood,  everything  but  the  fear  beat- 
ing at  her  heart.  And  as  she  sank  back  upon  the  cush- 
ions the  flood-gates  of  her  filial  love  burst  open,  and 
she  gave  way  to  her  grief,  recalling  poignantly  her  vain 
promises,  her  seeming  heartlessness. 

At  the  same  time  she  became  conscious  of  a  rising 
anger  against  Raynor  for  coming  int  her  life  as  he 


224  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

had.  She  forgot  that  she  had  been  glad  to  see  him — 
that  his  caresses  pleased  and  flattered,  his  wealth  daz- 
zled. She  only  remembered  that  Keith  had  written  at 
last  and  that  by  her  own  folly  she  had  forfeited  all 
right  to  his  love.  Long  before  she  reached  the  house 
her  grief  for  her  mother  had  become  merged  in  her 
longing  for  the  lover  she  had  lost. 

She  arrived  to  find  Mrs.  Dereham  barely  conscious. 
She  had  thought  so  little  of  death,  had  seen  so  little 
illness,  that  she  was  awed  by  the  extremity  of  this 
strange  new  being,  so  different  to  the  shabby  little 
woman  she  had  almost  despised.  She  was  afraid  those 
suffering  eyes  might  read  what  she  felt  sure  must  be 
written  on  her  face — what  had  made  her  shrink  from 
the  Vicar's  searching  gaze  as  he  met  her  on  the  door- 
step. 

The  whole  atmosphere  of  the  house  was  repugnant  to 
her.  The  solemn  faces  of  the  nurse  and  landlady,  the 
paraphernalia  of  the  sick-room,  filled  her  with  an  in- 
clination to  fly  from  the  place — back  to  life  and  sun- 
shine, warmth  and  noise. 

But  she  beat  the  feeling  down  with  genuine  self- 
loathing  and  demanded  why  she  had  not  been  sent  for 
before.  The  reply  was  full  of  unconscious  reproach. 
This  last  attack  had  been  so  sudden — there  had  been 
no  delay  in  writing — and  she  knew  how  ill  the  poor 
lady  was,  hadn't  she  been  ill  for  months?  Ill  and  lonely 
— starving,  for  all  she  knew,  burst  out  the  landlady. 
For  she  ate  nothing,  nothing — lived  on  less  than  would 
keep  a  bird,  pretending  she  had  fed  outside.  But  where 
could  that  be? — since  she  had  lost  so  many  pupils. 
Why? — asked  Zoe,  and  guessed  by  the  woman's  expres- 
sive look  and  silence  that  there  was  something  here  she 
ought  to  know.  She  tackled  Mr.  Wood  and  the  doctor 
— and  learnt  sufficient  from  their  guarded  replies  to 
know  that  she  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  whole  mischief. 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      225 

It  only  needed  that  to  flood  her  heart  with  remorse — 
and  make  her  resolve  to  devote  her  whole  time  to  her 
mother — to  stay  with  her  always  if  she  were  spared — to 
never  do  a  single  thing  she  disapproved  of,  whether 
she  lived  or  died. 

She  told  her  that  in  heart-broken  words  as  she  knelt 
by  the  bedside,  but  how  much  was  understood  she  never 
knew,  though  the  loving  eyes  dwelt  lingeringly  upon 
her  face,  and  the  lips  murmured  with  a  happy  sigh: 
"Zoe,  my  darling — safe — at  last — " 

She  died  a  few  minutes  later,  and,  for  the  time,  Zoe's 
grief  was  inconsolable.  She  would  gladly  have  given 
years  of  her  own  life  to  have  had  the  chance  of  show- 
ing how  deeply  she  regretted  the  past  year — how  anx- 
ious she  was  to  atone. 

Though  most  of  us  experience  such  longings,  when 
it  is  too  late — to  none  is  the  lost  opportunity  returned — 

When  Zoe  awoke  from  the  heavy  sleep  she  had  fallen 
into,  she  set  to  work  to  repair  what  errors  she  could, 
and  wrote  to  Raynor,  telling  him  she  could  never  see 
him  again.  Firmly  she  believed  she  could  turn  her 
back  on  the  life  she  loved  and  try  to  lead  one  her  mother 
would  have  approved  of  more — though  when  she  thought 
over  the  various  occupations  open  to  girls,  she  realized 
how  unequipped  and  incompetent  she  was  for  all. 

Resentment  grew  apace  in  her  heart  against  all  those 
who  had  once  been  their  friends  and  whose  defection 
had  so  troubled  her  mother.  She  blamed  the  Woods 
most — and  when  Mrs.  Woods,  feeling  no  doubt  very 
brave  and  kind,  called  to  offer  her  condolences  and  give 
her  motherly  advice,  she  sat  silent  and  morose,  answer- 
ing in  monosyllables  and  refusing  to  be  drawn.  An- 
noyed by  her  attitude,  the  good  lady  uncurbed  her 
tongue  and  talked  openly  of  the  dangers  of  the  life  she 
had  adopted — of  the  terrible  end  awaiting  flighty 
pleasure-seeking  girls,  of  the  horrors  of  the  London 


226  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

streets  at  night.  She  begged  her,  ere  it  was  too  late, 
to  pause  and  think. 

"And  if  I  do,"  asked  Zoe,  "will  you  give  me  a  ref- 
erence— so  that  I  can  get  some  other  work?" 

"What  sort  of  work?" 

"Teaching,  perhaps — "  faltered  Zoe. 

Mrs.  Wood  looked  alarmed.  No.  She  couldn't  do 
that,  unless  it  were  as  pupil  teacher  or — " 

"A  Sunday-school  teacher,  perhaps — "  asked  the  girl, 
a  wicked  gleam  in  her  tear-washed  eyes. 

"That,"  exclaimed  the  clergyman's  wife,  drawing  her- 
self up  stiffly,  "is  a  matter  for  the  Vicar.  In  fact,  it 
might  be  better  to  ask  him  about  the  reference.  A 
clergyman's  word  carries  more  weight  when  there  is 
so  little  to  be  said." 

Zoe  saw  her  no  more — and  was  left  to  herself  during 
those  sad  days  before  the  funeral.  Terrible  days  they 
were  when  the  longing  to  be  off,  to  drown  herself  in  a 
round  of  gayety,  was  almost  as  great  as  the  resolution 
to  put  frivolity  behind  her  and  lead  a  better  life. 
Though,  she  reflected,  the  very  people  who  ought  to  en- 
courage that  desire  were  the  most  against  it,  the  most 
discouraging  by  reason  of  their  own  self-righteousness. 
Lydia's  words  often  rang  in  her  ears. 

On  the  second  day  the  gray  car  caused  a  flutter 
through  the  street,  judging  by  the  fluttering  of  the  cur- 
tains in  the  prim  bay  windows,  and  Raynor  entered  the 
house  of  mourning. 

He  carried  a  magnificent  wreath  of  flowers  which  he 
laid  upon  the  table,  where  Zoe  had  been  sorting  bills 
and  papers. 

She  had  risen  before  he  was  ushered  into  the  room, 
and  met  his  smile  with  stern  displeasure. 

"My  poor  little  girl—  '  he  began. 

"Why  have  you  come?"  she  interrupted,  waving  him 
back. 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      227 

"Isn't  it  obvious  enough?" 

"I  told  you  I  never  want  to  see  you  again." 

"Yes — but  women  change  their  minds." 

"I  don't.     I  meant  it." 

"I  wanted  to  know  your  plan  for  the  future,"  he 
went  on. 

"After  the — after  to-morrow  I'm  going  to  town  to 
look  for  work." 

"And  starve  again?" 

"I  sha'n't  do  that!  For  I'll  take  anything  that  of- 
fers this  time — a  shop  even,  or — 

"It's  the  same  thing.  There  isn't  one  inch  of  the 
great  industrial  press  which  doesn't  crush  most  of  its 
women  workers  to  powder,  for  a  mere  pittance  which 
can't  keep  body  and  soul  together.  Sooner  or  later 
they  come  to  worse — death  or  the  gutter.  Which  do 
you  choose?" 

"Neither!"  she  exclaimed,  drawing  herself  up 
proudly.  "I'm  not  afraid.  That  isn't  the  truth  about 
everyone —  My  mother  hadn't  money,  and  yet — >" 

She  paused,  choking  over  the  words.  Need  her  mother 
have  died  yet?  Wasn't  starvation  and  worry  the  cause 
of  her  trouble?  She  turned  aside  from  the  triumphant 
look  in  his  eyes  as  he  murmured  tenderly: 

"Isn't  she  dead?  Doesn't  that  show  you  something? 
Oh,  you  foolish  little  child,  to  turn  your  back  on  hap- 
piness and  certainty — just  because — " 

"No,  I'm  not  foolish,"  she  exclaimed,  summoning  all 
her  forces  to  the  rescue.  "Death  like  that  is  better 
than — than  the  happiness  you  mean.  What  recon- 
ciles me  most  to  my  mother's  death  is  the  knowl- 
edge that  she  will  never  know — what  a  wicked  girl  I've 
been—" 

"Stuff  and  nonsense!"  he  exclaimed — then  stopped, 
regarding  her  with  wondering  eyes.  Something  had 
given  the  butterfly  a  soul — it  surprised  him  and  upset 


228  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

his  plans.    He  thought  her  a  fool  and  was  annoyed. 

"Then,"  he  resumed,  "you  really  mean  to  stick  to 
what  you  wrote — ?" 

"I  really  do,"  said  Zoe. 

"And  it's  good-by,  little  Zoe?" 

"Yes — "  she  faltered.  "But — "  with  sudden  courage, 
"I  owe  you  money — I  will  send  it." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  smilingly. 

"There  is  no  need — " 

"There  is — I  can't  owe  that." 

"What  good  is  it  to  me?  It  has  served  a  useful  turn. 
But  if  ever  you  come  into  any,  and  it  salves  your  con- 
science to  do  so,  perhaps — " 

"It  will — it  will!"  she  cried.  "I  want  to  start 
fresh  with  nothing  behind  me.  You  don't  understand, 
perhaps,  but,  I  want  to  make  up  a  little — to — her — • 
though  I  may  not  be  able  to  pay  it  all  at  once;  there's 
very  little  here — " 

She  spread  her  hands  despairingly  over  the  littered 
papers.  He  glanced  at  them  carelessly,  as  he  turned  to 
the  door. 

"Any  time  will  do.  Are  you  sure  you  have  enough 
now?  Well,  remember — in  the  future,  too — I  shall  be 
only  too  pleased.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  my  little  Zoe, 
I  owe  you  far  more  than  you  owe  me.  But  have  it  your 
own  way.  Good-by." 

And  then  he  went — the  huge  car  purring  noisily  as 
it  started  off,  to  creep  snugly  up  the  street,  all  the  cur- 
tains fluttering  as  he  passed. 

But  behind  hers,  Zoe  sat,  with  her  face  buried  in  her 
hands.  She  had  bid  good-by  to  the  wealth  and  pleas- 
ure he  could  have  poured  out  at  her  feet,  and  the 
thought  of  the  poverty  before  her  seemed  more  than  she 
could  bear. 

Presently  she  looked  up  and  saw  the  wreath  he  had 
left.  With  a  little  cry  of  rage  she  flung  it  to  the 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      229 

ground,  trampling  upon  it  and  murmuring  brokenly: 
"Not  on  her — not  on  her!" 

For,  creature  of  impulse  that  she  was,  she  was  filled 
with  self-loathing  and  utter  disgust  for  what  had  hap- 
pened, more  because  it  had  happened  whilst  her  mother 
was  lying  there  unconscious,  her  trust  in  her  child  still 
unbroken,  than  because  she  resented  his  caresses.  And 
she  honestly  believed  she  meant  to  do  all  she  said. 

And  so,  obsessed  with  the  thought  of  her  unworthi- 
ness  and  wrong-doing,  she  left  Roy's  letter  unanswered, 
and  decided  to  seek  other  rooms  than  Biddy  Toogood's 
so  that  she  could  start  the  new  life  away  from  the  old 
haunts. 

She  found  that  her  mother  had  been  practically  pen- 
niless— what  little  there  was  going  to  cover  the  costs 
of  her  funeral  and  settle  up  her  small  bills.  And  after 
she  had  turned  from  the  raw  look  of  the  upturned  earth 
at  the  grave-side — which  left  her  an  aching  memory  she 
never  forgot — she  left  Dunsworth  forever — with  noth- 
ing but  a  few  trinkets  and  a  couple  of  pounds  between 
herself  and  want. 

She  paid  little  heed  to  Mr.  Woods'  kind  words  of 
parting.  Her  heart  was  too  sore  against  him  and  his 
kind.  The  lack  of  sympathy  from  those  who  had  been 
her  mother's  pupils — the  cruel  way  in  which  she  was 
left  to  follow  her  alone  to  the  grave — filled  her  with 
everlasting  bitterness  and  made  her  show  her  worst 
side  to  the  few  she  had  to  see.  Not  to  this  well-meaning 
but  narrow-minded  man  would  she  say  one  word  of  her 
intentions — her  desire  to  atone  to  the  dead. 

With  sad  eyes  he  said  good-by,  grieving  deeply  in  his 
heart  that  one  so  full  of  promise  in  her  early  years 
should  be  so  deaf  to  the  voice  of  God — so  lost  to  the 
ways  of  the  righteous,  that  even  he  could  not  snatch 
her  from  the  burning  which  most  surely  awaited  her. 

And  to  this  day  the  neighbors,  still  living  down  that 


230  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

street,  tell  of  the  gray  car  with  its  handsome  occupant 
— of  the  beautiful  wreath  her  landlady  found  trampled 
and  destroyed  after  he  had  left — and  the  girl's  anger 
and  distress — Mrs.  Dereham,  for  all  her  airs  and  graces, 
must  certainly  have  been  no  better  than  she  should  be 
— probably  a  great  deal  worse  if  her  daughter,  who  was 
following  in  the  footsteps  of  her  hidden  youth,  could 
so  resent  the  rich  stranger's  visit. 

Zoe  found  a  room  in  a  mean  street  near  Victoria.  It 
was  so  poorly  furnished  that,  although  she  had  brought 
pictures  and  ornaments  from  Dunsworth,  she  could  not 
resist  the  temptation  of  spending  a  few  shillings  in  or- 
der to  make  it  look  more  homelike.  The  whole  house 
was  in  a  dilapidated  state — the  whole  street  shabby  and 
sordid.  It  depressed  her  each  time  she  went  out — and 
often  she  delayed  her  coming  back  until  it  was  too 
dark  to  see  her  surroundings.  Then,  however,  she  was 
surprised  by  the  number  of  good-looking,  well-dressed 
women  she  would  meet  on  their  way  townwards,  and, 
learning  from  various  sources  that  they  were  "theatri- 
cals," tried  to  approach  one  or  two  in  the  hope  of  hear- 
ing of  an  opening  for  herself.  For  her  determination 
to  avoid  the  stage  was  beginning  to  dwindle  away — worn 
by  her  endless  failure  to  secure  any  other  kind  of  em- 
ployment. She  had  discovered  that  this  was  a  bad  time 
of  year  for  most  occupations — firms  dismissing  employes 
during  the  slack  months  in  order  to  save  a  few  pounds 
for  the  good  of  the  shareholders,  and  without  any 
thought  whatever  for  those  thus  thrown  out  of  work. 
Then  the  heads  of  big  concerns  were  invariably  away — 
and  her  lack  of  references  and  experience  balked  her 
everywhere.  She  had  almost  secured  a  post  as  waitress, 
in  one  of  the  numerous  tea-shops  belonging  to  a  huge 
company,  where  she  was  to  provide  her  own  uniform 
and  receive  the  fabulous  sum  of  eight  shillings  a  week, 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      231 

minus  one  and  sixpence  for  dinners — when  it  was  dis- 
covered that  she  was  not  living  at  home  nor  with  rela- 
tives. For  the  sake  of  morality  the  firm  insisted  on 
that — little  recking  that  the  sweating  wages  were  far 
more  likely  to  send  a  girl  wrong,  than  if  she  lived  in 
rooms  with  an  adequate  salary.  So  they  salved  their 
consciences  in  their  dealings  with  the  young  women 
trusted  to  their  care — so,  in  similar  ways,  did  other  pro- 
viders of  labor.  It  was  a  hopeless  lookout  for  any 
friendless  girl,  with  no  special  training  or  profession. 
And  Zoe  realized  that  the  best  thing  would  be  to  go 
back  to  what  she  knew — even  to  become  a  much  despised 
chorus  girl.  Unfortunately  Hailey  was  in  America  or 
she  could  have  gone  to  him  for  advice.  She  had  lost 
faith  in  theatrical  agencies.  So  she  waited  on  her  stair- 
case one  evening  for  one  of  the  good-looking  girls  she 
had  noticed  in  the  house — and  who  had  smiled  at  her 
once  or  twice. 

"Are  you  going  to  the  theater  now?"  she  asked,  walk- 
ing down  with  her. 

The  girl  stared  and  smiled. 

"Because,"  said  Zoe,  "I  want  to  ask  a  favor.  I'm 
looking  for  a  'shop.'  I  thought  you  might  know  of  one 
and  speak  a  word  for  me — " 

The  girl  colored,  and  retorted  that  the  agents  would 
be  of  more  use. 

"They're  not — I've  wasted  heaps  of  money  on  all 
kinds  of  agencies — for  all  kinds  of  work.  And  then 
they  tell  me  they  have  nothing." 

"Do  you  really  think  I'm  on  the  stage?" 

"Of  course." 

"Well — I've  never  been  behind  the  scenes  in  my  life. 
I  used  to  be  in  a  shop.  But  now  I  know  better  than 
to  slave  from  morning  to  night  for  a  mere  nothing." 

She  nodded  smilingly  and  went  on. 

Zoe  went  back  to  her  room — there  to  brood  over  what 


232  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

she  had  heard,  a  horrid  fear  of  London  possessing  her 
heart — a  longing  for  the  best  it  had  to  offer  filling  her 
soul.  She  could  not  believe  that  she  was  doomed  to 
such  misery  for  life,  that  the  luxury  and  gayety  she 
loved  were  wrong  for  her.  She  had  been  foolish  to 
imagine  that  her  mother  wished  that — hadn't  she  said 
that  teaching  was  too  dull  for  her?  She  would  write 
to  Roy.  Why  not?  He  loved  her  and  would  want  to 
marry  perhaps.  The  silly  feeling  she  had  had  about 
having  forfeited  his  love  just  because  she  had  spent  a 
few  hours  with  Raynor,  was  as  unhealthy  as  these  oth- 
ers— turning  her  back  on  the  work  she  was  best  fitted 
for — the  love  and  pleasure  she  was  offered.  She  was 
not  meant  to  struggle  on  like  this.  No  one  could  blame 
her  for  asking  more  from  life. 

He  came  the  next  day — his  face  aglow  with  love,  to 
reproach  her  tenderly  for  having  kept  him  so  long  with- 
out news,  for  having  buried  herself  in  such  a  hole. 
And  she  clung  to  him  with  a  fierce  joy  in  her  heart. 

The  letter,  which  she  had  sent  to  Jermyn  Street,  had 
found  him  on  the  eve  of  departure  for  Scotland.  An- 
other day,  and  it  would  have  been  too  late! 

"You  were  going  to  the  bloated  grocer's  daughter?" 
she  asked,  her  eyes  adoringly  on  his  face.  "Yes — yes 
— I  see  it  in  your  face.  But  I  don't  mind  now.  I  know 
that  you  love  me.  I  don't  mind  if  you  have  to  marry 
her,  for  you  love  me  best." 

"Yes,  I  love  you,"  he  murmured. 

"And  you'll  go  to  Scotland  to-morrow?" 

He  held  her  from  him  and  looked  into  her  eyes. 

"Witch  that  you  are — "  he  smiled.  "I  fled  once 
from  your  wiles — must  I  fly  again?" 

"I  don't  know — "  she  faltered,  her  eyes  dropping 
from  his. 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      233 

"Supposing  I  say  no,  Zoe;  that  I  refuse  to  leave  you 
here—" 

"Do — do.  I  hate  the  place,"  she  shuddered.  "Look 
out  of  the  window,  look  into  the  street!  It's  horrible. 
I  hate  it—" 

' '  I  know  of  the  sweetest  little  country  place  where  my 
Zoe  could  forget  these  horrors.  Where  there  are  flow- 
ers nearly  as  beautiful  as  herself,  and  shady  trees 
and—" 

She  sprang  back  into  his  arms. 

"Take  me  there — now — forever!" 

"You  mean  it?  Do  you  understand,  Zoe,  what  you 
say?  You  do! — You  want  to  go  with  me?" 

"I  want  it.  I  wrote  because  I  wanted  it.  I  want 
you  to  love  me — to  make  me  forget  all  this — now — 
now — "  she  cried.  "I  don't  care  what  happens,  so 
long  as  I  have  you.  Take  me,  take  me — I  am  yours  to 
take." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

NOT  once,  during  the  fortnight  that  followed,  did 
Zoe  pause  to  think.  She  was  too  happy,  too  in- 
toxicated with  passion — her  senses  lulled  by  the  gratifi- 
cation of  every  wish — to  find  room  in  her  untutored 
heart  for  vain  regret.  She  loved  Keith  more  than  she 
believed  she  could  have  loved  anyone,  and  belonged  to 
him  body  and  soul.  Nothing  seemed  therefore  to  mat- 
ter, beyond  the  present — and  she  was  convinced  that  she 
would  be  content  to  live  for  him  alone,  in  the  lonely 
little  house  where  the  "flowers  grew  nearly  as  beauti- 
ful" as  herself. 

It  stood  in  a  sheltered  lane  where  the  banks  were 
fringed  with  tall  grass  and  fragrant  hedge  flowers — 
where  the  birds  piped  in  trees  decked  out  in  fresh, 
green  foliage,  patches  of  blue  sky  showing  between  their 
branches. 

No  other  habitation  was  near  at  hand,  though  set  be- 
tween the  gray  splendors  of  the  distant  hills  were  the 
mellow,  irregular  roofs  of  the  Nuremberg  of  England 
— that  quaintest  of  country  towns  with,  its  narrow, 
cobbled  streets  and  Sadlers'  Row  of  pink-washed 
cottages. 

Then  a  letter  came,  forwarded  from  Jermyn  Street, 
to  request  Roy's  presence  in  town.  Sir  Jasper  was  up 
on  business — he  required  some  explanation  for  the  de- 
ferred visit  to  Scotland. 

Zoe  begged  to  go,  too — her  eyes  sparkling  at  the 
thought.  London  again — even  London  in  August — why 
not?  She  loved  it  at  any  time.  She  adored  the  shops. 
How  could  she  get  things  here? 

234 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      235 

But,  although  she  pouted  at  his  refusal,  she  had  to 
give  in.  Of  course  it  would  never  do  to  risk  being  seen 
by  Sir  Jasper.  That  would  mean  starvation  for  them 
both.  She  shuddered  as  she  recalled  the  meaning  of 
that  word.  Not  even  with  him  would  she  go  through 
that  again. 

But  time  hung  heavy  on  her  hands  after  she  had 
watched  him  drive  off  in  the  dogcart  belonging  to  Jerry 
Marsh,  their  landlord, — Old  Jerry,  himself,  hunched  up 
behind  him.  A  feeling  of  unrest  possessed  her,  the 
radiance  of  her  happiness  was  dimmed.  Although  she 
knew  that  Roy  could  not  return  before  night,  she  spent 
the  day  between  the  old  stone  porch  and  the  wicket  gate, 
longing  for  something  to  happen  to  break  her  solitude. 
Quite  suddenly  she  began  to  hate  the  company  of  her 
own  thoughts.  Once  or  twice  she  wandered  into  the 
kitchen  where  Mrs.  Marsh,  a  rosy-cheeked,  dark-eyed 
woman  and  the  apple  of  Jerry's  eye,  did  the  baking  for 
the  day.  But  she  soon  fluttered  away,  as  aimlessly  as 
the  butterflies  without,  to  end  at  the  gate  for  another 
peep  at  the  empty  road. 

She  must  have  done  so  for  about  the  fiftieth  time, 
when  her  eyes  fell  on  the  figures  of  two  men  walking 
briskly  towards  her.  Judging  by  their  attire,  and  the 
knapsacks  across  their  shoulders,  they  were  on  a  walking 
tour.  One  was  quite  young,  short  and  well  knit;  the 
other  much  older,  tall  and  spare. 

Her  heart  fluttered  with  excitement.  She  wondered 
if  they  would  notice  her — see  how  pretty  she  was.  She 
wished  they  would  stop  and  ask  the  way.  As  they  got 
nearer  she  had  a  feeling  that  she  had  seen  the  older 
of  the  two  before.  She  puckered  her  brow  and  looked 
hard  at  him. 

He  was  for  passing  on  with  a  careless  glance.  But, 
suddenly,  he  paused — said  a  word  or  two  to  his  com- 
panion, and  made  straight  for  her. 


236  THE  LUBE  OF  THE  FLAME 

"Surely  I'm  not  mistaken  in  thinking  I  know  you?" 
he  smiled.  That  smile  had  cheered  her  at  a  too  bar- 
ren moment  of  her  life  for  her  not  to  remember  it. 

"It's  Mr.  Hales!"  she  cried,  holding  out  her  hand. 

"And  it's  Zoe! — One  of  the  bravest  little  girls  I 
know!  Let  me  see,  how  long  is  it  since  we  met?" 

"Years  and  years  ago,"  she  exclaimed.  "At  least, 
it  seems  like  that,  so  many  things  have  happened!" 

""We  meet  under  happier  circumstances,  for  one!" 

"Yes,  indeed!" 

"Are  you  staying  here?" 

"For  the  present — yes — "  she  faltered.  For  what 
would  he  say  if  he  knew  under  what  conditions  she  was 
here,  and  with  whom! 

"Ah,  I'm  sorry  I  didn't  know,  for  I've  been  in  the 
neighborhood  a  week." 

"And  we  came  ten  days  ago,"  she  began,  halting  to 
color  hotly  as  she  realized  she  had  said  "we." 

He  looked  at  her  thoughtfully.  His  eyes  slid  from 
her  confused  face  to  her  left  hand,  the  brand  new  band 
of  gold  upon  her  third  finger — and  then  he  smiled,  ex- 
claiming : 

"I  understand !  Of  course  you  don't  want  any  intrud- 
ers. It's  an  ideal  spot  here  for  happy  people,  and 
I  hope  you'll  always  be  that,  both  of  you.  And  now 
I  must  hurry  on.  We  take  the  train  in  half  an  hour 
and  return  to  work.  I  shall  think  of  you  in  Arcadia 
whilst  I'm  in  the  slums.  Perhaps  you'll  come  and  see 
me  there." 

He  shook  her  hand  as  he  spoke,  bowed  and  rejoined 
his  friend.  Long  after  they  had  passed  out  of  sight, 
long  after  their  voices  had  died  away  into  silence,  she 
stood  there — all  laughter  gone  from  her  eyes,  looking  as 
though  she  had  been  stunned.  She  had  been  so  proud 
of  her  love — careless  and  indifferent  to  what  the  world 
might  think.  But  now  she  remembered  that  she  had 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      237 

eaten  of  the  tree  of  Knowledge  of  Good  and  Evil — that 
its  fruit  was  bitter. 

Mrs.  Marsh  recalled  her  to  the  trivialities  of  life,  and 
she  went  slowly  in  for  the  meal  she  could  not  eat. 

A  telegram  came  during  the  afternoon  to  say  that 
Roy  would  not  return  that  night — might  stay  away  for 
a  day  or  two.  She  was  furious.  How  could  he  leave 
her  so  long  in  a  place  where  there  wasn  't  a  soul  to  speak 
to  and  nothing  to  amuse  her. 

She  cried  herself  to  sleep  that  night  with  an  alarming 
vision  of  a  future  such  as  this.  She  had  said  she  could 
be  happy  anywhere  with  him — anywhere.  But  the 
thought  of  other  lonely  days  in  this  dull  place,  other 
still  more  lonely  nights,  filled  her  with  sudden  horror. 
For  the  moment  she  was  really  thankful  he  had  not 
married  her. 

She  was  so  heavy-eyed  and  pale  when  she  came  down 
to  breakfast  that  Mrs.  Marsh  looked  concerned. 

' '  I  'm  all  right, ' '  smiled  Zoe.     "  Only  lonely— ' ' 

"I  know.  It's  a  horrible  feeling,  isn't  it?  And  the 
worst  is  we've  got  to  get  used  to  it,  M'm." 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Zoe,  puckering  her 
brow. 

"All  married  women  have  to,"  sighed  Mrs.  Marsh. 
"Jerry  worships  the  ground  I  walk  on,  but  that  don't 
prevent  his  leaving  me  for  hours  and  hours  all  by  my 
little  lonesome.  What  for?  T'  enjoy  himself  at  the 
Spotted  Dog,'  a  playing  billiards,  or  telling  yarns — • 
without  giving  a  thought  to  me  the  whole  time.  Men 
aren't  like  us.  Love  is  everything  to  them  for  a  few 
minutes  only — they  don't  understand  it's  breath  to  us 
always,  even  when  we're  getting  old.  They  think  if 
they  put  us  in  a  comfortable  home  and  give  us  plenty 
of  good  food  and  clothes,  we've  no  right  to  grumble  or 
question  their  love.  P'r'aps  they're  right,  p'r'aps  their 
love  is  still  there  for  all  they're  too  busy  to  show  it. 


238  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

But  you  can't  have  a  plant  and  never  water  it — some 
want  a  drop  every  day;  and  that's  the  kind  love  is. 
If  you  forget  it  once  or  twice  it  droops;  if  you  forget 
it  several  days  it  dies.  And  a  woman  is  the  same,  least- 
ways her  love  is,  but  that's  what  men  don't  realize. 
They  think  once  they've  got  a  woman  it's  for  always. 
But  if  you  remember  they're  like  that,  you'll  save  your- 
self a  mint  of  trouble  later  on,  I'm  sure.  Though  as 
to  your  being  lonely  now — that's  a  different  thing,  for 
no  one  can  help  being  kept  away  by  business,  and 
so—" 

"Anyhow,  I'm  not  going  to  droop,"  laughed  Zoe, 
with  sudden  determination.  "I'll  water  my  love  if  no 
one  else  will!" 

"Oh,  M'm!"  chuckled  the  comely  woman.  "And 
how  might  that  be?" 

"I'm  going  to  enjoy  myself.  Not  at  the  'Spotted 
Dog,'  wherever  that  may  be,  but  at  the  'Swan.'  In 
other  words,  I'm  going  to  walk  through  that  glorious 
common  to  the  artists'  inn  for  tea.  So  if  the  sweets 
of  love  are  not  for  me  to-day,  the  sweets  of  the  Swan's 
scrumptious  blackberry  jam  will  run  them  pretty 
close. ' ' 

"It's  a  nice  walk,  I'll  allow.  But  further  than  you 
ought  to  go  alone — there's  all  sorts  about  that 
common.  Artists  and  loafers,  one's  bad  as  t'other, 
and—" 

"I  don't  mind.  In  fact,  it  will  be  quite  a  change 
to  see  someone  fresh.  To  have  an  adventure  perhaps! 
But  I'll  take  the  dog  with  me  if  I  may,  he'll  enjoy 
the  walk  as  much  as  I  shall,  and  then  nothing  terrible 
can  happen." 

In  fact,  she  hoped  something  would  happen.  She  re- 
called a  young  artist  they  had  seen  on  the  common  a 
few  days  ago — he  had  looked  at  her  then  with  more  ad- 
miration in  his  face  than  Roy  approved  of.  It  would 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      239 

be  fun  to  see  him  again  and  tell  Eoy  of  the  meeting — 
watch  his  blue  eyes  flame  up  in  sudden  jealousy. 

To  that  end,  she  changed  her  white  linen  for  a  smoke- 
colored  muslin,  knowing  how  well  it  would  look  in  con- 
junction with  purple  heather  and  blue  gray  sky.  She 
had  bought  no  black  excepting  the  thing  she  had  worn 
at  the  funeral.  Roy  had  begged  her  not  to — her  se- 
cret belief  that  it  might  bring  ill-luck  upon  their  love 
had  made  her  agree  readily  enough,  and  argue  that  of 
course  her  mother  would  have  been  the  last  to  wish  her 
to  wear  anything  so  depressing.  Grays  and  lavenders 
took  its  place — with  occasional  white.  Roy  had  been 
lavish  with  his  gifts.  Her  gowns  were  dreams,  not  an 
item  wanting  to  complete  their  perfection. 

She  started  off  after  an  early  luncheon,  Jerry's 
shaggy  sheep  dog  trotting  by  her  side.  She  was  so 
pleased  with  her  appearance  and  the  Marshs'  open  ad- 
miration that  she  looked  as  happy  as  if  she  had  not 
begun  to  think.  And  her  delight  in  herself  lasted  all 
the  way. 

It  was  a  glorious  afternoon.  The  sunlight,  filtering 
through  the  leafy  boughs  on  the  green  shot  lane,  fell 
caressingly  upon  her — peeping  under  the  brim  of  her 
soft  feathery  hat,  twinkling  in  unison  with  her  gray- 
clad  feet. 

About  three-quarters  of  a  mile  further  on,  the  lane 
turned  up  into  a  broad,  sandy  road  running  between 
high  banks.  Beyond  the  left  bank  the  ground  sloped 
gently  down  into  wooded  land,  with  here  and  there  a 
field.  But  that  on  the  right  climbed  higher — covered 
with  heather  and  bracken.  Tiny  yellow  paths  wound 
through  the  purple  carpet,  under  clumped  trees,  round 
huddles  of  bushes,  until  they  reached  a  wild  upland  and 
sight  was  lost  of  the  sunken  road. 

It  was  here,  where  the  purple  merged  into  the  blue 
of  the  bright  sky,  that  Zoe,  who  had  climbed  on  to  the 


240  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

bank  and  stood  shading  her  eyes,  espied  a  man  with 
an  easel.  He  sat  with  his  back  to  her,  but  something 
in  the  clear  outline  of  his  figure  seemed  familiar. 

The  famous  Swan  lay  at  the  foot  of  the  road,  long 
after  the  banks  had  crept  down  to  its  level,  and  the 
common  spread  out  to  the  other  side,  for  half  a  mile 
or  so.  But  she  had  heaps  of  time  before  her.  It  would 
be  fun  to  see  if  this  were  the  artist  Roy  had  scowled 
at,  and  with  old  Blunders  to  protect  her  it  mattered 
little  who  it  was.  Besides,  she  felt  curious  to  see  what 
could  be  more  paintable  there, — on  the  edge  of  the 
world, — than  here. 

A  few  minutes  later  she  was  close  upon  him,  but  al- 
most too  surprised  by  the  panorama  unfolding  before 
her  to  wonder  at  his  unconsciousness  of  her  presence. 
For  the  common  ran  down  the  steep  hillside  to  a  gleam- 
ing band  of  water,  beyond  which  smooth  pastures 
dotted  with  cattle,  and  threaded  with  silvery  streams, 
stretched  leisurely  towards  a  distant  belt  of  hills.  Here 
and  there  a  white  bridge  flung  across  the  river;  a  road 
strolling  through  rows  of  poplars;  a  village,  with  gray 
stone  houses  touched  up  with  mellow  roofs  and  golden 
haystacks, — broke  up  the  monotony  of  the  Dutch-like 
scene. 

It  was  so  different  to  what  she  expected,  so  peaceful 
after  the  wild  tangle  of  color  she  had  come  through, 
that  Zoe  stood  still  at  gaze. 

"Beautiful,  isn't  it?"  said  a  man's  voice  behind  her. 
She  turned  quickly.  Yes — it  was  her  artist.  What  a 
nice  face  he  had. 

"It's  so  unexpected,"  she  replied.  "But  I  prefer  a 
different  scenery  all  the  same.  Something  more  fin- 
ished, more  filled  in." 

"For  that  type  of  scenery,  it  is  unique,"  he  smiled 
back.  "And  especially  as,  by  veering  round,  you  can 
get  something  quite  different  here.  Below  the  common, 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      241 

trees  and  dells,  well-hedged  sloping  fields,  and  shady 
lanes.  Those  appeal  more  to  you,  perhaps?" 

"I  believe  they  do.  I  suppose  it's  shocking  taste  on 
my  part,  but — " 

"Not  at  all.  CJiacun  a  son  gout.  Which  is  a  good 
thing  for  poor  devils  of  artists  like  myself." 

"I  daresay  you  think  I'm  a  fool  to  talk  like  that,  all 
the  same." 

"No.  I  don't  think  you  a  fool,"  he  replied  slowly, 
turning  back  to  his  easel. 

"Ah!  You  think  something  of  the  kind  or  you 
wouldn  't  say  it  like  that ! ' '  she  laughed,  following. 

"Shall  I  tell  you  what  I  think?"  he  demanded, 
facing  her  squarely  as  he  stopped  in  front  of  his 
work. 

"Yes,  do!" 

"I  was  feeling  quite  satisfied  with  my  work — with 
the  scenery.  It  seemed  to  me  beautiful  enough.  But 
when  I  looked  up  and  saw  you  standing  there — like  a 
spirit  of  the  heather  clad  in  gray  mist — I  realized  that 
I  had  been  mistaken  and  too  easily  satisfied.  "With  you 
there,  it  is  beautiful — but  without  you,  incomplete — I 
see  now  what  my  painting  lacks,  and — and — " 

He  paused.  After  all  he  was  talking  rather  freely 
to  a  total  stranger  and  she  ought  to  resent  it.  But  Zoe 
was  delighted.  She  saw  no  harm  in  his  words — why 
should  she? 

"And?"  she  asked. 

"I  wonder  if  you  would  let  me  put  you  in.  It  is 
just  what  I  want — see?" 

She  looked  at  the  canvas.  Unfinished,  as  it  was, 
there  was  no  denying  the  beauty  of  his  work.  The  same 
sense  of  the  unexpected  which  had  seized  her  on  reach- 
ing what  she  called  the  edge  of  the  world,  seized  her 
now.  For,  although  he  had  turned  his  back  on  the  com- 
mon, it  filled  the  foreground  of  his  picture. 


242      THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

"But  it  is  beautiful  as  it  is!"  she  exclaimed.  "You 
don't  want  a  figure  there!" 

"Indeed  I  do.  Do  you  know  a  picture  called  'Di- 
ana of  the  Uplands' — well,  that  is  the  kind  of  thing  I 
want.  Just  here,  heather  at  your  feet,  the  sky  behind 
you — and,  far  away  the  valley — I  should  call  it  'From 
the  Land  of  Beyond,'  or  some  such  name.  It  would 
be  splendid!" 

His  eyes,  shining  with  enthusiasm,  were  no  brighter 
than  hers.  She  watched  his  hand  as  he  took  up  a 
brush. 

"Do  you  want  to  start  it  now?"  she  asked. 

"May  I?  Do  you  mean  it? — I  shall  want  several  sit- 
tings perhaps,  and— 

"I  can't  promise  you  those,  but  we'll  see.  I  might 
manage  it — if — if — " 

"Anyhow,  a  bird  in  the  hand  is  worth  two  in  the 
bush,  isn't  it?  So  I'm  going  to  seize  my  opportunity 
now — I  can't  afford  to  lose  it." 

"Why  not?" 

"Haven't  you  heard:  'there  are  four  things  that  come 
not  back :  the  spoken  word,  the  sped  arrow,  the  past  life 
and  the  neglected  opportunity.' — That's  why.  So  do 
you  mind  standing  there — yes — that's  it.  But  I  warn 
you  it 's  a  tiring  game,  so  speak  when  you  've  had  enough. 
Artists  are  selfish  brutes  when  they  get  hold  of  models 
like  yourself — they — " 

"What  sort  of  models?"  asked  Zoe,  glowing  beneath 
the  admiration  in  his  eyes. 

"Rare  and  beautiful  ones — of  course.  So  you  know 
what  to  expect." 

"I  don't  mind.  I  shall  enjoy  watching.  I've  never 
been  painted  before.  Are  you  doing  old  Blunders,  too? 
Don't  you  think,  'At  the  Edge  of  the  World,'  a  good 
title?" 

She  spoke  hurriedly,  without  waiting  for  a  reply  as 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME  243 

he  stood  regarding  her.  For  she  was  not  quite  sure 
that  she  ought  to  have  consented.  Wouldn't  Roy  be 
vexed?  Ah,  well,  it  would  only  be  this  once,  and  Roy 
couldn't  expect  her  to  go  about  like  a  mute  just  be- 
cause he  chose  to  stay  in  London  and  amuse  himself. 
Perhaps  for  all  she  knew  he  was  with  the  grocer's 
daughter — now ! 

So  she  gave  herself  up  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  mo- 
ment without  further  scruple.  She  was  beginning  to 
find  it  quite  easy  to  silence  that  little  protesting  voice 
within,  so  reminiscent  of  her  mother  and  her  prim  warn- 
ings. And  as  for  her  mother — she  refused  to  think  of 
her.  It  only  made  her  wretched  and  furious  with  the 
Dunsworth  people,  for  she  was  too  helpless  to  do  any- 
thing to  express  her  anger  and  disgust. 

And  this  man  was  delightful — so  different  to  anyone 
else  she  knew — more  like  a  schoolboy  and  yet  how  old 
really? — Twenty-eight,  thirty  perhaps — older  than  Roy. 
And  it  never  mattered  letting  artists  admire  you,  for 
they  made  a  business  of  admiration,  and  this  one  was 
much  too  keen  on  his  picture  to  think  of  making  love. 
Yet  she  wondered,  if — if — 

Yes,  she  was  feeling  tired.  The  sun  was  so  hot  and 
the  heather  so  dazzling.  She  had  been  envying  old 
Blunders  who  looked  so  comfortable,  rolled  up  like  a  ball 
of  shaggy  wool.  Might  she  sit  down  a  minute,  she  felt 
giddy. 

He  sprang  to  her  side,  full  of  contrition.  Poor  lit- 
tle girl,  what  a  beast  he  was!  Why  hadn't  she  spoken 
before?  No,  he  wasn't  going  on.  She  had  said  she 
was  going  to  the  Swan  for  tea — they  would  go  now 
in  his  side  car.  Where  was  it?  Down  behind  a  hud- 
dle of  bushes  a  little  way  down  the  road.  Yes,  that  was 
risky,  but  one  had  to  take  risks  in  everything.  It 
made  life  more  lively.  Hadn't  she  taken  any?  Not 
one? 


244      THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

Almost  before  she  had  finished  explaining  that  she 
wanted  to  be  painted  more  than  anything  else  in  the 
world,  they  were  flying  down  the  road,  with  poor  old 
Blunders  padding  hard  behind.  There  was  a  master- 
fulness about  him  she  could  no  more  resist  than  she  had 
resisted  the  inclination  to  come  out,  in  search  of  adven- 
ture, and  the  fear  of  Roy's  possible  annoyance  van- 
ished like  smoke  beneath  the  charm  of  his  manner,  the 
flattery  of  his  words.  And  just  because  she  was  enjoy- 
ing it  all  so  much,  and  meant  it  to  last  as  long  as  pos- 
sible, she  seized  the  opportunity  of  slipping  the  wedding 
ring  off  her  finger  and  into  her  bag,  when  she  took  off 
her  gloves.  For  if  he  thought  her  a  staid  married 
woman  it  would  spoil  all  the  fun. 

"Need  you  go  back  now?"  he  asked  after  tea. 

"Well,  I  can  stay  a  little  longer  perhaps — Blunders 
looks  done  up  after  his  awful  run.  I  wonder  how  he 
felt  when  he  saw  us  go  out  of  sight  and  never  found 
us  again  until  he  got  here — " 

"That  his  sun  had  set.     I  should  have,  in  his  place." 

"Don't  be  silly.  Tell  me  who  did  these  pictures — and 
show  me  yours." 

She  looked  round  the  quaint  oak-paneled,  low- 
ceilinged  room.  Most  of  the  paneling  was  covered  by 
the  paintings  of  various  artists  who  had  stayed  in  the 
place.  The  landlady  was  very  proud  of  that  room,  and 
well  she  might  be.  Some  of  the  greatest  painters  of 
the  day  had  left  some  offering  there. 

"Mine  has  yet  to  come,"  he  said. 

"What  will  you  do?" 

"I  haven't  thought,  unless — unless — how  would  you 
like  me  to  put  you  in  here?" 

"Surely  you  can  think  of  something  better," — she 
smiled. 

"Better!     Did  you  say  better?" 

"Yes — don't  pretend  to  be  deaf, — I  said  better." 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      245 

"I'm  not  deaf,"  he  exclaimed,  looking  close  into  her 
face.  "Nothing  half  so  stupid  as  you  think,  you  lit- 
tle devil!" 

And  with  a  laugh  he  caught  her  in  his  arms  and 
kissed  her.  Of  course  she  ought  to  have  been  as  angry 
as  if  the  room  had  not  been  empty — but,  somehow  or 
other,  she  couldn't  even  feel  annoyed.  She  had  been 
longing  all  day  for  love  and  kisses. 

"You're  a  very  naughty  boy,"  she  scolded,  giving 
him  a  playful  push.  "And  I'm  going  home  at  once. 
Come,  Blunders." 

"Oh,  I  say — no — are  you  angry?  Have  I  really  an- 
noyed you?  I  promise  I'll  behave  properly.  Really  I 
will.  I  couldn't  help  losing  my  head,  for  you're  such 
a  bewitching  little  monkey." 

"Promise  you  won't  be  so  silly  again,"  said  Zoe, 
glancing  at  him  through  lowered  lashes. 

"I  can't  promise — but  I'll  try  to  resist  temptation. 
You'd  tempt  St.  Anthony  himself,  with  those  eyes, 
those  lips,  those — " 

A  party  of  tourists  entered  the  room.  They  glanced 
at  them  with  that  tantalizing  look  the  prosaic  gener- 
ally put  on  when  they  think  themselves  in  the  presence 
of  lovers,  and  Zoe  slipped  out  into  the  passage,  her 
heart  beating  loudly,  hoping  yet  fearing  that  he  would 
follow  her  to  renew  the  subject. 

But  he  had  evidently  taken  her  at  her  word  or  feared 
he  might  lose  all  chance  of  further  sittings,  for  his 
manner  was  as  reserved  and  proper  as  if  Blunders  had 
suddenly  turned  into  a  chaperone.  It  annoyed  her,  and 
more  out  of  curiosity  as  to  whether  the  mood  would 
last,  than  anything  else,  she  consented  to  stay  a  little 
longer.  But  although  they  strolled  along  by  the  river, 
where  the  people  fishing  sat  as  thick  as  flies  upon  the 

Sinks,   although  they  paused  on  the  old  stone  bridge 
watch  the  water  mill  at  work,  and  stood  at  a  farm- 


246  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

yard  gate  watching  the  poultry  being  fed,  whilst  she 
laughed  and  chatted  merrily,  he  did  not  thaw  again. 
It  seemed  impossible  to  believe  that  he  had  kissed  her 
with  such  passion  only  a  brief  while  ago. 

She  was  surprised  at  the  lateness  of  the  hour  when 
they  started  back.  The  sun  had  long  since  set  and 
twilight  enveloped  the  common  and  scattered  the  lane 
with  dark  shadows  which  filled  her  with  vague  unrest. 
Supposing  they  met  Boy — supposing  he  had  changed 
his  mind  and  come  back  to-day!  She  almost  wished 
she  had  not  stayed  so  long — for  of  course  the  Marsh 
might  be  anxious,  might  tell  him  of  it  some  time  or 
other.  She  knew  his  anger  could  be  as  fierce  and  un- 
controlled as  his  love. 

She  turned  out  of  her  seat  a  few  yards  above  the 
Cottage,  and  with  a  half  promise  to  do  her  best  to 
meet  him  on  the  morrow  said  a  hurried  good-by  and 
ran  towards  the  garden  gate.  A  stream  of  light 
stretched  to  it  from  the  open  door,  a  figure  darkened 
the  porchway  and  Mrs.  Marsh  came  hurrying  out. 

"Oh,  M'm,  so  there  you  are!  I  was  getting  anxious, 
though  I  knew  old  Blunders  wouldn't  let  you  come  to 
any  harm.  Well,  old  man.  My!  How  you've  been 
running!  I  suppose  you  thought  I'd  wonder  what  had 
happened  to  you,  and  so  I  did,  especially  when — " 

"What  could  happen?"  laughed  Zoe,  her  heart  as 
light  as  a  feather  again.  "It's  a  long  way  to  the  Swan, 
and  I  knew  there  was  nothing  to  hurry  back  for.  And 
I  went  down  to  the  river  and  dawdled  about,  you  know 
how  one  goes  on  and  on  quite  forgetting  one  has  to 
turn  back  some  time  or  other." 

She  pushed  open  the  sitting-room  door  as  she  spoke, 
and  stopped  on  the  threshold  with  a  little  cry.  For 
just  in  front  of  her,  his  back  to  the  grate,  the  table 
between  them,  stood  Roy,  his  face  full  of  a  severity  s 
had  never  seen  there  before.  Something  was  wron 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      247 

she  knew.  He  did  not  move  to  greet  her.  His  blue 
eyes  just  looked  her  through  and  through. 

"So  you're  back,  after  all!"  she  said,  shutting  the 
door  and  pulling  herself  together  with  the  comforting 
thought  that  he  had  meant  to  surprise  her.  "How 
sweet  of  you.  I've  been  pining  for  you  all  day,  and — " 

She  made  a  little  rush  at  him,  but  he  put  out  a  hand 
to  ward  her  off. 

"Where  have  you  been?"  he  asked. 

"Where?  For  a  long  walk — didn't  Mrs.  Marsh  tell 
you?" 

"With  whom?" 

She  laughed  nervously^ — his  voice — his  eyes — his  man- 
ner were  those  of  a  judge.  He  looked  a  different  man 
— taller,  older,  most  terrifying. 

"What  a  stupid  question — when  you  know  there's 
no  one." 

"Who  was  it?"  he  insisted,  his  face  growing  blacker. 

She  decided  to  brave  it  out. 

"Nobody!"  she  cried. 

"That's  a  damned  lie—" 

"Oh,  how  dare  you — how  dare  you  when  I  say — " 

"Because  I  know  the  truth,"  he  interrupted  angrily. 
"I  saw  you  on  the  bridge,  below  the  Swan — " 

A  sickening  feeling  of  fear  shook  her  from  head 
to  foot.  Had  he  seen  her  really,  or  was  he  merely 
guessing?  His  way  from  the  station  was  in  a  quite 
different  direction.  He  was  angry  because  she  had  kept 
him  waiting — he  knew  nothing,  really. 

"What  a  tease  you  are!"  she  began.  "And  all  be- 
cause I'm  late.  But  you  said  you'd  be  away  some 
time,  and  I  felt  dull  indoors  and  sick  of  the  garden, 
and- 

"Stop  that.  I've  had  enough.  You  went  out  to 
meet  this  man — I  passed  you  in  a  friend's  car — I  saw 
you  as  plainly  as  I  see  you  now.  And  that  isn't  all. 


248  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

Yesterday  I  met  Mr.  Raynor,  that  kind  friend  you  in- 
troduced me  to  in  Berners  Street.  And  he  told  me  all 
about  Doncaster — everything!  So  I've  done  with  you, 
d'you  hear — you  can  go  back  to  him.  I  daresay  he'll 
be  glad  enough  to  take  you."  . 

She  moved  closer  to  him. 

"Oh,  no — no — listen,  you  must — you  must — I  was  so 
wretched,  so  lonely,  I  didn't  understand — truly  I 
didn't.  No  one  had  ever  told  me  anything.  And  I 
didn't  think — I  didn't  care  either,  for  you  had  gone 
out  of  my  life — " 

"It's  a  pity  I  ever  came  into  it  again.  I  thought  you 
a  decent-minded  girl,  willing  to  trust  yourself  only  to 
me,  and — and — " 

"And  so  I  am!"  she  moaned,  raising  a  tear-stained 
face  to  his. 

"And  I  find  you're  only  a  common  harlot,  after  all!" 

She  shuddered  back  as  though  he  had  struck  her. 
For  she  knew  the  meaning  of  that  word  now,  and  was 
to  hear  herself  called  by  it  again  and  again,  with  many 
a  worse,  but  never  with  the  same  feeling  of  horror  and 
anguish. 

"And  if  I  am,"  she  choked,  drawing  herself  up  with 
something  of  her  old  fighting  spirit,  and  barring  his 
way  to  the  door,  "haven't  you  helped  to  make  me  so? 
Am  I  to  blame  more  than  you? — who  are  a  man,  and 
know — " 

"I  do  not  blame  myself  at  all.  You  came  to  me  after 
Doncaster,  you  deceived  me  willingly." 

He  put  her  gently  aside  as  he  spoke  and  opened  the 
door.  And  with  that  the  hopelessness  of  her  situation 
overwhelmed  her.  He  had  done  with  her — forever. 

The  room  rocked  and  rocked  as  she  struggled  to  reach 
him,  longing  to  throw  herself  at  his  feet — to  crave  for- 
giveness there. 

He  had  loved  her !    He  had  held  her  to  his  heart  and 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      249 

told  her  so.     If  he  would  listen,  and  understand,  surely 
she  could  win  him  back. 

She  could  hardly  move  her  feet — the  room  rocked 
like  a  boat  in  a  storm — a  rudderless  little  boat,  like  her- 
self. And  then  suddenly  the  waters  engulfed  her. 
She  sank  down  and  down,  unable  to  resist,  willing 
enough  to  forget. 


CHAPTER  XX 

WHEN  Zoe  regained  consciousness  she  was  lying  on 
her  bed,  and  Mrs.  Marsh  was  bending  over  her. 
A  lighted  candle  behind  the  woman  cast  her  shadow 
on  the  ceiling,  and  Zoe's  eyes  clung  to  it.  She  reflected 
that  a  similar  blackness  had  thus  blotted  out  the  bright- 
ness of  her  life. 

"Are  you  better?"  asked  Mrs.  Marsh. 

As  she  spoke  the  distant  teuf-teuf  of  a  motor-car  came 
through  the  open  window,  and  Zoe's  face  filled  with 
fear. 

"Where's  Mr.  Keith?"  she  asked. 

"Gone."  There  was  none  of  the  old  friendliness  in 
the  woman's  voice,  even  her  face  looked  hard.  "He's 
been  fetched  in  a  motor-car." 

Zoe  shut  her  eyes.  The  tears  began  to  trickle  down 
her  cheeks.  She  felt  utterly  wretched  and  wondered 
what  Mrs.  Marsh  had  been  told.  She  supposed  she  ought 
to  get  up  and  pack,  ready  to  start  in  the  early  morn- 
ing, but  added  to  her  disinclination  to  move  was  her 
inability.  She  felt  numb  all  over — as  though  she  had 
been  crushed. 

"I  may  as  well  tell  you  I  know  everything,"  said 
Mrs.  Marsh.  "And  if  you  hadn't  fainted  and  it  wasn't 
so  late,  I'd  tell  you  to  go,  too.  As  it  is  you'll  have  to 
clear  out  first  thing  in  the  morning — " 

Zoe  sat  up  with  sudden  effort.     Her  eyes  flashed. 

"Did  Mr.  Keith  tell  you— that— that— "  she  stum- 
bled over  the  words. 

"There  was  no  need  for  telling.  The  house  is  small 
and,  Jerry  not  being  in  to  make  a  row,  I  could  hear 

250 


THE  LUBE  OF  THE  FLAME      251 

all  that  was  said.  I  couldn't  help  myself.  And  I'd  a 
right  to  know,  considering  how  you'd  both  taken  me  in 
— with  your  lies  about  marriage  and  honeymoons  and — • 
wearing  a  wedding  ring  what  you've  no  right  to,  though 
I  see  you  haven't  got  it  now.  If  Jerry  heard  what  Mr. 
Keith  called  you — he'd  turn  you  out  this  very  minute 
— faint  or  no  faint." 

Zoe  slipped  to  the  floor  and  stood  up,  swaying  a 
little. 

"I'll  go  now — "  she  said. 

"And  where  to,  pray?" 

"I  can  walk  to  the  town — it's  only  two  miles,  you 
said.  My  boxes  can  follow  me  to-morrow.  Yes,  I'll 
do  that.  I  don't  want  to  stay  where  I'm  not  wanted. 
I'll  pack  now — and  then  I'll  go." 

Mrs.  Marsh  watched  her  narrowly  as  she  stumbled 
across  the  room.  There  was  no  denying  the  girl  was 
bad — that  it  would  be  inhuman  to  let  her  go.  On  the 
other  hand,  she  could  not  forget  how  her  neighbors 
would  regard  the  matter — blame  her,  a  respectable 
woman,  for  sheltering  a  "bad  lot."  She  considered 
that  she  had  been  shamefully  taken  in  and,  woman- 
like, blamed  the  girl  more  than  the  man.  But  there 
was  more  tenderness  than  hardness  really  in  her  heart, 
and  she  had  taken  to  Zoe  from  the  first. 

So  she  put  her  arm  round  the  girl  and  led  her  back 
to  the  bed. 

"You're  going  no  farther  than  this,  to-night,"  she 
said  gruffly.  "You  aren't  fit  to  walk  a  yard,  let  alone 
a  couple  of  miles,  and  Jerry '11  be  too  tired  to  take 
you.  So  you'd  better  get  undressed — 

"But  I  want  to  go,"  said  Zoe,  resisting  feebly. 

"You  aren't  fit—" 

"What  does  that  matter?     Do  you  think  I  care  what 
happens  to  me  now?" 
'  "Don't  talk  nonsense.     Of  course  you'll  care  some 


252  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

time  or  other,  if  not  now.  It's  no  good  crying  over 
spilt  milk.  You're  young  enough  to  turn  over  a  new 
leaf  and  be  a  better  girl.  P'r'aps  you've  had  more 
temptations  than  most — pVaps  you've  been  more  sinned 
against  than  sinning — anyhow,  whatever  you  are,  I'm 
not  going  to  have  it  laid  at  my  door  that  you  were  turned 
out  when  you  wasn't  fit — so  let's  get  you  to  bed — " 

"But  Mr.  Marsh—" 

"He  knows  nothing  yet — there's  no  reason  why  he 
should,  for  he'd  be  sure  to  think  I  didn't  ought  to  have 
anything  to  do  with  you,  or  let  you  stay." 

Zoe  felt  too  weak  to  resent  anything,  although  an 
angry  retort  rose  to  her  lips.  She  had  already  learnt 
that  offended  pride  could  not  be  indulged  in,  by  any 
one  as  utterly  at  the  mercy  of  others  as  she  now  was. 
Besides,  she  wanted  to  go  to  bed — she  longed  ardently 
for  oblivion  to  sweep  over  and  cover  her. 

She  never  knew  exactly  how  she  got  there  nor  how 
long  she  laid  there,  letting  time  flow  over  her,  all  her 
troubles  forgotten,  the  problem  she  had  to  face  un- 
solved. But  there  were  moments  of  lucidity  when  she 
was  woefully  aware  of  the  emptiness  of  her  world,  when 
she  clung  to  Mrs.  Marsh,  as  to  her  only  refuge  from 
the  crowd  of  mocking  demons  clustering  round  her  bed ; 
when  her  short,  but  varied,  past  rose  vividly  before  her 
eyes. 

Then  came  a  time  when  she  became  acutely  alive  to 
all  that  had  happened,  and  realized  that  she  had  no  busi- 
ness here.  She  recalled  the  word  Roy  had  flung  at  her, 
with  a  shudder,  and  scrambled  out  of  bed.  She  must 
go — Mrs.  Marsh  had  merely  kept  her  out  of  charity. 

She  dressed  slowly,  stopping  many  times  to  rest,  her 
eyes  wandering  round  the  pretty  room  with  its  rose- 
framed  window,  through  which  the  sunbeams  came  tum- 
bling in  with  a  bright  indifforonoe  to  her  aching  pain. 
She  stared  out  at  the  daz/ding  sky,  the  peaceful  land- 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      253 

scape,  and  wondered  if  everyone  in  the  world  was  as 
callous  to  her  suffering  as  this  joyous  day.  Incidentally 
her  mind  flew  to  Roy — how  he  had  spumed  her,  thrust 
her  aside! 

She  was  half  dressed  when  Mrs.  Marsh  came  in. 

"What's  this?"  she  asked.  "Who  told  you  to  get 
up?" 

"I  must — I  have  to  go  back  to-day." 

"Back?     Where?" 

A  vista  of  mean  streets  and  lowly,  grimy  lodgings,  of 
unappetizing  meals  and  greedy  lust-filled  faces,  rose 
before  Zoe's  eyes. 

"To  London,  of  course." 

"Well,  there's  no  hurry,  is  there?  These  rooms  have 
been  paid  for  until  the  end  of  the  week,  and  well  paid. 
You're  not  fit  to  travel,  either — leastways,  judging  by 
your  face." 

Her  voice  was  rough,  but  so  kind,  despite  her  evi- 
dent effort  to  be  stern,  that  the  tears  sprang  to  Zoe's 
eyes.  She  sank  down  upon  a  chair  and  looked  up  with 
a  little  helpless  smile  into  the  woman's  comely  face. 

"You've  had  a  shock,  that's  what  it  is,  and  you've 
got  to  get  over  it  before  you  go.  Oh,  I  know  what 
you're  trying  to  say,  but  we  all  make  mistakes,  and  I 
don't  mind  owning  I  did,  jumping  at  you  like  that. 
Nobody,  who  heard  you  in  the  night,  would  think  other 
but  that  you've  been  misled.  A-clinging  to  me  to  save 
you,  a-calling  to  your  mother —  Why,  Jerry, — of 
course  I  had  to  tell  him — he  said  we'd  no  right  to  judge 
you,  that  we  must  help  you  instead,  being  as  you're 
most  likely  a  victim  of  that  White  Slave  traffic  the 
papers  have  been  full  of — Mr.  Keith  was  very  nice  and 
such  a  gentleman,  too,  but  the  worst  people  often  are 
the  nicest — and  the  only  bright  bit  in  the  whole  affair 
is  that  he's  left  you  instead  of  taking  you  right  away 
where  your  friends  and  your  mother  could  never  find 


254  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

you  again.  So  just  you  tell  me  the  whole  story — and 
we'll  do  what  we  can.  Never  mind  what  I  said. 
"We've  got  to  be  careful  in  the  country,  'cause  folks  are 
as  ignorant  as  pigs  and  have  tongues  as  long  and  as 
wicked  as  snakes.  But  if  they  hear  anything  about 
here,  they'll  hear  you're  a  White  Slave — and  that'll 
make  all  the  difference  about  my  having  let  you  stay. 
He  kidnapped  you,  didn't  he,  and  called  you  names 
because  he  was  tired  of  you,  or  you  wouldn't  do  what 
he  wanted  you  to?  Or  p'r'aps  somebody  else  trapped 
you  first  and  passed  you  on  to  him,  or — " 

"Don't!"  cried  Zoe,  her  eyes  filling  with  horror. 

"Well,  if  you  don't  tell  us,  how 're  we  to  help  you?" 
demanded  the  woman,  doggedly.  "I  daresay  you  hate 
telling — feel  ashamed  and  all  that,  that's  why  lots  of 
girls  won't  face  their  friends  again.  But  it's  silly  of 
them — for  that's  just  what  these  White  Slave  people 
want—" 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  said  Zoe.  "I'm  not 
a  White  Slave." 

Poor  child!  She  little  knew  that  she  was  one,  just 
as  much  as  if  she  had  been  carried  away,  bound  and 
gagged,  and  shipped  to  the  far  East  for  whatever  price 
men  cared  to  put  on  her.  That  she  was  one,  because 
the  life  she  had  begun  to  lead  held  her  as  in  a  vice 
— that  the  poison  of  excitement,  of  unrest,  of  garish 
pleasure  so  filled  her  blood  that  already  it  had  begun 
its  dire  work  of  annihilation.  That  she  was  one,  be- 
cause she  had  willingly  bowed  her  neck  to  the  yoke — 
had  crossed  the  Rubicon. 

"Then  what  are  you?"  asked  Mrs.  Marsh,  her  face 
hardening. 

"I— I  don't  know." 

"Mr.  Keith  seemed  to — right  enough.  And  you 
needn't  look  like  that.  If  you're  as  innocent  as  you 
try  to  make  me  think,  with  your  crying  and  your  sigh- 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      255 

ing,  you'd  up  and  say.  It's  only  when  folk  want  to 
hide  something  nasty  that  they  pretend  there's  noth- 
ing to  be  said,  and  look  as  though  butter  won't  melt  in 
their  mouths —  And,  as  you're  nearly  dressed,  you  can 
finish  dressing,  and  start  your  packing.  It'll  take  you 
a  month  of  Sundays,  judging  by  the  finery  about — and 
I  want  to  get  the  rooms  ready  for  someone  else.  None 
of  your  young  honeymooning  couples  again,  for  me — 
I'm  going  in  for  prim  old  maids  in  the  future,  and  the 
uglier  the  better,  beauty's  only  skin  deep,  after  all." 

She  flounced  out  of  the  room,  leaving  Zoe  looking 
after  her  with  bewildered  eyes.  For  the  change,  from 
kindliness  to  brutality  almost,  seemed  hardly  explained 
by  her  very  natural  objection  to  talk  about  the  past. 
How  could  these  simple  people  help  her?  Moreover, 
she  was  ashamed  and  longed — oh,  how  she  longed! — 
for  some  loophole  of  escape  from  the  loathsome  search 
for  work,  all  the  dread  experiences  that  await  a  friend- 
less girl.  Yet  she  knew  .that  if  the  chance  were,  given 
her  to  stay  here,  she  would  refuse  it  and  return  to  town. 
Something  might  turn  up — something  must. 

As  she  packed  the  dainty  clothing,  the  pretty  trin- 
kets, the  many  other  presents  Roy  had  lavished  upon 
her,  she  reflected  that  she  would,  at  all  events,  be  able 
to  dispose  of  these  as  necessity  arose.  A  vague  feeling 
of  pride  made  her  stop  during  the  progress  of  her  task. 
How  could  she  take  them  after  all  he  had  said?  How 
keep  her  well-filled  purse? 

But  the  scruple — a  weakling  from  the  first — was 
crushed  out  of  being  by  the  assurance  that  they  were 
hers,  and  could  be  of  no  use  to  him.  That  if  she 
left  them  he  would  never  know,  and  only  Mrs.  Marsh 
would-  benefit  by  her  folly. 

Although  her  head  ached  terribly  she  worked  on,  feel- 
ing that  she  could  not  bear  Mrs.  Marsh's  scathing  con- 
tempt any  longer,  wondering  vaguely  if  Jerry  would 


256  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

drive  her  to  the  station.  If  not,  she  must  walk  and 
let  her  luggage  follow. 

Once  the  idea  of  going  to  the  Swan  shot  through 
her  mind.  She  might  afford  it  for  a  week,  and  there — 
at  any  rate — she  had  a  friend.  But  she  put  it  from 
her  at  once.  Wasn't  it  partly  his  fault  she  had  lost 
Roy?  There  must  be  no  such  writing,  as  that  of  a 
promiscuous  acquaintanceship,  on  the  new  leaf  she 
meant  to  turn  over.  Such  readiness  to  make  friends 
had  brought  her  to  this  pass. 

She  leaned  her  head  against  the  trunk-lid,  and  wept 
bitterly  as  the  memory  of  her  mother's  voice  rang  in 
her  ears.  Oh,  if  only  she  could  go  to  her! 

She  had  not  heard  the  sound  of  wheels,  and  yet,  as 
she  rose  to  her  feet,  she  saw  a  station  fly  standing  at 
the  gate.  She  supposed  Mrs.  Marsh  had  ordered  it  for 
her — well,  it  would  have  to  wait.  She  made  up  her 
mind  what  to  say  as  she  heard  the  woman's  step  out- 
side the  door  and  was  surprised  to  hear  her  saying  quite 
quietly : 

"There's  a  gentleman  to  see  you,  please."  And  then 
as  she  read  Zoe's  inquiring  eyes,  she  added  shortly, 
"It's  a  clergyman,"  and  went. 

A  clergyman!  Could  it  be  Mr.  "Wood  who  had  fer- 
reted her  out,  and  had  come  to  rebuke  her — to  remind 
her  of  his  warning — to  offer  her  some  help?  She  re- 
membered that  she  had  liked  him  once,  that  he  had 
been  very  kind  during  her  childhood,  and  because  she 
was  feeling  very  crushed,  and  penitent,  and  humble,  she 
resolved  to  see  him  and  learn  what  his  message  was. 

A  thousand  different  feelings  possessed  her  as  she 
went  downstairs.  And  from  each  she  gained  a  grain 
of  pride,  a  renewal  of  her  anger  against  the  world,  the 
determination  to  fight  whatever  odds  there  were. 

She  pushed  open  the  door  with  a  sickening  memory 
of  the  last  time  she  had  done  so.  Then,  she  had  come 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      257 

face  to  face  with  Roy,  looking  like  a  god  of  wrath; 
now — 

It  was  not  Mr.  Wood  after  all,  but  Humphrey  Hales ! 
Her  surprise  was  so  great  that  she  swayed  a  little 
towards  him,  and  held  out  her  hands  imploringly. 

She  did  not  know  how  weak  and  childlike  she  looked, 
how  her  terrified  eyes  struck  to  his  heart.  She  thought 
he  came  believing  in  her  happiness — the  happiness  of 
a  newly-wed  bride — and  searched  her  mind  hurriedly 
for  something  to  say. 

He  took  her  hands  in  his  warm  clasp,  and  led  her  to 
a  chair,  saying: 

"Poor  little  Zoe,  my  poor  little  child." 

She  pulled  herself  together  and  looked  searchingly 
into  his  grave  face. 

"Why  do  you  say  that?"  she  asked. 

"Because  I  know  what  you  have  suffered — what  you 
are  suffering  now." 

"You  know?  What  do  you  know?  I  told  you  I  was 
happy.  And  so  I  was — as  happy  as  the  birds  in  those 
trees  outside — " 

"And  I  believed  you,  child.     But  now — " 

"Now  you  know  I'm  wicked,  I  suppose" — she  burst 
out — "I  suppose  Roy  told  you — How  else  can  you  know? 
Perhaps  he  sent  you  to  convert  me  and  preach  at  me. 
Sent  you  from  your  slums,  which  are  full  of  wicked 
women  like  me.  Do  you  know  what  I  am?  Do  you?" 

"Why,  yes — my  friend,  Zoe." 

"Not  at  all.  No  one  who  knows  will  be  friends  with 
me.  I  have  no  friends.  I'm  a — a — common  harlot,  he 
said.  A  little  time  ago  I  didn't  know  what  that  meant 
— I  didn't  know  anything  a  girl  should  know,  who  has 
to  knock  about  as  I  have  had  to — but  now — now — I'm 
just  that — he  said  so — and  yet  I  love  him — have  always 
loved  him." 

She  began  to  cry  helplessly,  her  head  upon  the  cush- 


258  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

ions.  But  as  he  remained  silent  she  suddenly  looked 
up,  and  asked  why  he  didn't  speak — scold  and  abuse 
her. 

"Because  I  don't  want  to,"  he  smiled,  sitting  down 
beside  her.  "I've  come  to  help,  not  to  make  you  mis- 
erable. It's  true  I  know  all — and  am  terribly  sorry 
for — for  you  both.  But  you're  wrong  in  supposing  I 
was  sent.  That  was  my  own  idea — I  came  knowing  you 
were  lonely,  yet  fearing  to  find  you  already  gone. 
Luckily  I  am  in  time.  Have  you  any  plans?" 

"None.  There's  no  one  in  the  world  to  care  for  me, 
so  it  doesn't  matter  where  I  go — or  what  I  do.  Only 
I  have  to  work." 

"And  your  mother?" 

She  never  quite  knew  how  it  was,  but  she  found  her- 
self telling  him  everything  that  had  happened  since 
she  left  Sainte  Croix.  Her  confidence  in  him  seemed 
just  as  great  as  it  had  been  there,  nearly  a  year  ago. 

It  was  a  sorry  story  she  had  to  tell,  one  that  filled 
him  with  indignation  and  regret  since  all  her  folly  and 
mistakes  could  have  been  so  easily  avoided.  He  won- 
dered how  many  other  young  girls,  placed  in  like  cir- 
cumstances, were  as  little  equipped  for  the  fight,  and, 
realizing  the  frivolity  of  her  nature — its  depths  of  un- 
tutored vanity  and  love  of  adulation, — shuddered  at  the 
thought  that  he  might  ye  be  too  late  to  lead  her  from 
the  path  her  feet  had  trodden  so  heedlessly.  None  knew 
better  than  he  how  few  ever  turn  back  again. 

She  was  in  a  sufficiently  chastened  mood  to  agree 
that  what  he  proposed  must  surely  be  better  for  her 
than  anything  else — to  believe  quite  sincerely  that  she 
had  had  enough  of  the  stage  or  anything  appertaining 
to  it.  She  wanted  to  be  good  more  than  anything,  to 
get  back  to  the  Zoe  of  a  year  ago,  who  had  done  none 
of  the  dreadful  things  she  had  done  and  who  was  still 
fit  for  the  companionship  of  her  own  social  kind. 


THE  LURE  OP  THE  FLAME      259 

He  did  not  make  the  mistake  many  other  men, — 
equally  earnest  and  anxious  for  her  welfare, — might 
have  made.  Take  her  to  his  grimy  vicarage  in  the 
slums,  and  bring  her  face  to  face  with  the  misery  and 
poverty  around.  He  had  enough  experience  to  know 
that  the  contrast  of  his  austere  life  with  that  she  had 
lead  would  be  too  great  a  shock  to  do  any  permanent 
good.  That  it  was  only  by  gradual,  and  careful,  teach- 
ing the  change  he  wanted  could  be  wrought  in  her.  But 
he  made  one  almost  as  great.  For  he  suggested  her  go- 
ing to  his  old  friend,  Mrs.  Clayden. 

Mrs.  Clayden  lived  in  Edgware.  She  was  fond  of 
young  people.  Her  only  daughter  had  died  at  Zoe's 
age.  She  was  pleased  to  take  the  girl  and  give  her 
a  home  until  she  had  found  something  to  do.  Was  he 
sure? — Yes,  he  had  seen  her  before  coming.  She  need 
tell  her  nothing,  unless  she  wished  to.  Perhaps  it  would 
be  wiser  to  say  nothing.  The  old  lady  had  lived  a  very 
quiet  life;  without  being  exactly  narrow,  she  was  very 
conventional. 

Zoe  looked  shocked.  Surely  it  was  wrong  to  de- 
ceive her? — Well,  she  could  tell.  He  had  said  very  lit- 
tle. It  was  for  her  to  decide.  But  the  less  she  spoke 
about  the  past,  or  thought  of  it,  the  better.  There  was 
nothing  to  gain  by  shocking  an  old  lady's  feelings  when 
there  was  no  reason  for  doing  so.  She  offered  shelter 
to  a  homeless  girl  who  had  had  trouble — she  offered  it 
for  his  sake.  She  knew  he  would  not  ask  it  for  an 
unworthy  person —  She  trusted  him  and  he  trusted  Zoe. 

He  trusted  her!  He  could  have  said  nothing  better 
to  arouse  her  feelings  of  self-respect,  her  determination 
to  prove  herself  worthy  of  his  confidence,  since — know- 
ing all — he  still  believed  that  her  power  of  becoming  a 
good  woman  was  as  great  as  that  of  becoming  a  wicked 
one.  That  she  had  not  yet  made  "of  her  beauty,  a 
curse." 


260      THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

The  tears  started  to  her  eyes  as  she  looked  back  into 
his  kind  face. 

"Very  well,  I'll  go — "  she  said.  "And  your  trust 
in  me  shall  not  be  misplaced!  I'll  forget  the  past — I'll 
try  to  be  as  good  as  woman  as  my  darling  mother  was." 

And  she  meant  it — as  much  as  you  or  I  can  mean 
anything. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

AND  she  meant  it.  Oh,  yes,  she  meant  it! 
But  before  a  week  had  passed,  in  the  quiet  house 
at  Edgware,  she  felt  bored.  Before  a  fortnight  had 
gone,  she  wondered  how  much  more  of  it  she  could 
stand.  And  when  three  weeks  had  stumbled  by,  each 
day  growing  longer,  more  dreary  and  unlivable,  she  de- 
cided that  she  had  had  enough. 

The  house  was  a  small,  shabby,  old  building  covered 
with  creepers  and  surrounded  by  high  brick  walls. 
From  the  road  it  looked  lonely  and  mysterious.  Within 
the  walls,  one  was  surprised  by  the  brightness  of  its 
trim  garden,  the  redness  of  its  paths,  the  smoothness 
of  its  lawns.  It  certainly  looked  the  haven  of  rest 
Hales  thought  it,  and  ought  to  have  satisfied  Zoe  for 
many  a  long  day.  Besides,  Mrs.  Clayden  was  a  kind 
little  lady — and  spared  no  pains  to  make  her  young 
guest  comfortable.  But  her  efforts  were  such  that  the 
girl  began  to  pine  for  the  flesh-pots  of  life  from  the 
very  first.  She  tried  valiantly  to  remember  what  she 
had  told  Mr.  Hales,  to  forget  the  stolen  pleasures  she 
had  enjoyed  with  Roy,  all  the  many  things  that  seemed 
to  call  her  back  from  this  humdrum  monotonous  exist- 
ence. She  went  so  far  as  to  demand  some  share  of 
the  household  duties,  in  order  to  occupy  her  mind. 
But  Mrs.  Clayden  laughed  at  her  charming  desire  to 
make  herself  useful,  and  assured  her  that  her  capable 
old  servants  would  be  wounded  mortally  if  she  attempted 
to  do  anything  but  eat  the  meals  they  provided,  with 
such  punctilious  formality,  and  perhaps  take  the  dogs 

261 


262  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

out  for  an  occasional  walk.  She  had  no  objection  to 
doing  either;  the  food  was  good  and  well  cooked,  and, 
although  the  dogs  were  old  and  wheezy  and  could  not 
go  far,  it  was  a  relief  to  get  away  from  the  house  where 
everything  went  by  clockwork  from  eight  in  the  morn- 
ing till  nine  at  night,  when  doors  were  locked,  win- 
dows bolted  and  lights  put  out. 

But  Zoe  never  went  straight  to  bed  when  she  went 
upstairs.  This  was  the  longed-for  moment  of  respite 
from  the  cramping  atmosphere  which  had  enveloped  her 
all  day — the  moment  for  a  surreptitious  cigarette,  a  tip- 
toe dance  before  the  cheval  glass.  Her  enjoyment  of 
that,  however,  had  lost  its  edge,  and  she  would  sud- 
denly turn  out  the  light  and  throw  herself  down  by 
the  open  window  as  though  to  implore  help  from  the 
still  night  without.  Her  longings  for  Roy  would  arise, 
until,  recalling  his  last  look  and  words,  she  burst  into 
tears  and  sobbed  her  heart  out.  Not  so  much  now  be- 
cause she  had  lost  him,  as  because  her  life  seemed  to 
have  come  to  an  end. 

As  the  daughter  of  a  famous  bishop,  and  the  widow 
of  an  equally  illustrious  general,  Mrs.  Clayden  was  the 
personage  of  the  neighborhood  which  was  almost  en- 
tirely populated  by  city  men  and  their  kind.  Her  ex- 
clusive circle  was  composed  of  a  few  derelicts  of  a 
bygone  day,  who  had  not  yet  been  driven  thence  by 
the  bricks  and  mortar  of  the  speculating  builder. 
Therefore,  as  there  was  no  occasion  for  entertaining, 
the  monotony  of  the  day  was  only  broken  by  a  rare 
visit  from  Hales  or  an  occasional  tea-party. 

And  work  was  no  more  easily  found  than  when  Zoe 
had  padded  from  office  to  office,  or  starved  in  order  to 
save  a  'bus  fare.  For  so  many  avenues  were  closed, 
and  her  marketable  value  had  not  increased.  The  one 
or  two  interviews  accorded  her,  for  companionships  or 
secretarial  work,  had  resulted  in  nothing.  She  discov- 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      263 

ered  that  most  women  resented  her  good  looks — that  all 
were  most  inquisitive  regarding  her  history. 

She  had  stoutly  refused  to  take  a  situation  as  gov- 
erness, though  many  of  Mrs.  Clayden's  friends  offered 
to  find  her  one.  And  Hales  agreed.  He  knew  enough 
of  the  world,  and  of  women  in  general,  to  picture  the 
horror  her  story  would  arouse  in  the  breasts  of  unsus- 
pecting employers,  and  felt  it  was  only  fair  to  the  girl, 
and  to  them,  to  risk  no  such  revelation. 

"Patience,"  he  wrote  to  Zoe,  "is  a  virtue  you  would 
do  well  to  cultivate.  The  rest  is  doing  you  no  harm 
and  I  know  Mrs.  Clayden  is  only  too  glad  to  have 
you.  You  say  you  are  of  no  use  to  her.  I  beg  to  dif- 
fer. Your  bright  young  presence  has  done  her  worlds 
of  good,  and  as  for  the  dogs — just  look  at  their  figures ! 
But  if  you  really  are  as  tired  of  doing  nothing  as  you 
say,  what  do  you  say  to  this? — A  friend  of  mine,  Miss 
Edith  Seymour,  who  lives  in  Hampshire,  and  goes  in 
for  bee-farming,  wants  an  assistant.  "Would  you  care 
to  go?" 

It  did  not  sound  very  alluring.  A  country  village 
— bees — an  old  maid.  She  could  not  make  up  her  mind. 
Neither  did  she  like  to  tell  Hales  that  her  desire  to 
be  good  did  not  necessarily  include  a  longing  for  the 
wilds,  nor  a  hankering  for  the  most  uninteresting  of 
her  own  sex.  She  did  not  want  him  to  be  disappointed 
in  her,  and  yet — if  she  took  this  post  and  left  it  in  a 
short  time,  his  disillusions  would  be  just  as  great. 
What  should  she  may?  Why  couldn't  she  be  in  Lon- 
don? 

Although  it  was  late  autumn,  it  was  fine  and  dry 
enough  for  a  tea-table  to  be  spread  under  the  large 
cedar  where  Mrs.  Clayden  generally  entertained  her 
friends,  and  Zoe  darted  about  from  one  to  the  other 
in  her  prettiest  gown — of  lavender  chiffon — her  brow 
slightly  puckered  as  she  tried  to  think  of  two  things 


264  THE  LUBE  OF  THE  FLAME 

at  once:  Hales*  letter  and  the  various  needs  of  those 
around. 

Suddenly  her  eyes  fell  on  the  white-clad  figure  of 
a  young  woman  crossing  the  lawn  with  Mrs.  Hodder, 
the  Vicar's  wife.  Her  heart  stod  still,  whilst  a  look 
of  terror  came  into  her  face  and  she  glanced  helplessly 
about  as  though  in  search  of  escape.  For  this  young 
creature — the  first  she  had  seen  there — was  Lena  Storey, 
one  of  her  mother's  best  pupils  and  also  the  first  to 
forsake  her.  As  Zoe  watched  her  coming,  the  sight  of 
her  smug  fair  face,  her  pale  eyes,  set  too  close  together, 
her  somewhat  self-satisfied  smile,  roused  all  the  devils 
within  her  and,  instead  of  yielding  to  her  impulse  to 
run  away,  she  stood  her  ground,  reflecting  that  here  was 
the  chance  she  had  longed  for — of  telling  Dunsworth 
what  she  thought.  A  Storey  was  as  good  as  any  town 
crier,  her  mother  had  once  said. 

Lena,  who  had  evidently  heard  about  Zoe's  presence 
in  the  house,  held  out  her  hand  and  exclaimed  smil- 
ingly : 

"Why,  Zoe,  this  is  strange!  Fancy  meeting  you 
here!" 

"It's  no  stranger  than  meeting  you,"  retorted  Zoe, 
ignoring  the  hand. 

"But  I  often  come  here.  Mrs.  Hodder  happens  to 
be  my  godmother." 

"Really.    How  delightful  for  her!" 

Lena's  pale  eyes  flashed  and  ran  over  the  lavender 
gown.  She  was  aware  that  the  dowagers  were  listen- 
ing, but  evidently  wanted  to  be  sure  of  their  atten- 
tion, for  she  raised  her  voice  and  remarked  sweetly 
that  she  wasn't  quite  sure  whether  it  was  Zoe  at  first, 
as  she  expected  to  see  her  in  mourning. 

"What  for?—    My  sins,  or—" 

"For  your  mother,  of  course." 

"Considering  the  life  my  mother  had  in  Dunsworth, 


265 

I  should  be  a  fool  to  mourn  her  death,  in  black — or 
anything  else.  She's  much  happier  where  she  is,  poor 
darling. ' ' 

"Oh,  Zoe!" 

"Oh,  Zoe!"  mimicked  Zoe,  with  a  wicked  smile. 

"I'm  sure  you're  not  as  heartless  as  that,  or — " 

"I  don't  think  you  know  anything  at  all  about  me. 
Though  I  daresay  you've  said  a  lot — probably  here. 
You  wouldn't  be  Lena  Storey  if  you  hadn't.  But  that 
doesn't  prove  you're  right." 

"Zoe,  my  dear — "  began  Mrs.  Clay  den,  who  had  been 
listening  with  a  look  of  bewilderment  on  her  kind  face. 
"It's  getting  a  little  chilly,  would  you  mind  fetching 
my  shawl?" 

Zoe  left  the  scene  of  battle  reluctantly.  She  guessed 
that  the  moment  she  was  out  of  earshot  she  would  be 
the  topic  of  conversation.  Her  eyes  burned  with  un- 
shed tears,  and  as  she  stepped  into  the  hall  she  caught 
a  glimpse  of  her  face  in  the  mirror.  She  looked  a 
perfect  fury — no  wonder  all  those  poor  old  women  had 
seemed  startled.  It  was  too  bad  she  could  not  be  left 
alone.  That  even  here — in  a  quiet  spot  like  this — ill- 
luck  should  pursue  her  in  the  shape  of  Lena  Storey 
with  her  spiteful  tongue. — Simultaneously  Lydia's 
words  shot  into  her  mind.  They  were  applicable  even 
here.  For  she  could  never  go  back  to  the  humdrum 
life  of  little  trivialities  and  senseless  gossip.  And  as 
she  strolled  slowly  back,  she  had  a  mad  idea  of  blurting 
out  everything  and  seeing  the  shocked  faces  grow  more 
horrified.  She  hated  them  all,  and  pictured  herself  a 
baited  bull  with  Lena  as  the  red  rag. 

They  were  all  so  intent  on  what  Lena  was  saying 
that  they  did  not  notice  she  was  so  near.  So  she  heard 
Mrs.  Clayden  exclaim: 

"It  can't  be  true.  Mr.  Hales  would—"  Whilst 
Lena  who  was  standing  before  her  caught  up  hur- 


266  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

riedly:  "But  it  is,  everybody  said  so,  and  that's  why 
one  couldn't  go  on  knowing  Mrs.  Dereham.  And  every- 
one says  Zoe  certainly  broke  her  mother's  heart — and 
that  the  man  actually  came  down  in  a  gray  car 
when — " 

Zoe  saw  red.  She  dashed  in  amongst  these  seem- 
ingly inoffensive  beings,  and  pushed  Lena  roughly 
aside. 

"You  liar!"  she  cried.    "You  damned  liar!" 

Most  of  the  ladies  sprang  to  their  feet  in  horror,  one 
or  two  seemed  rooted  to  the  spot.  Lena  subsided  on  to 
a  chair. 

"It's  true!"  cried  Zoe,  "for  I  didn't  break  my  moth- 
er's heart,  how  dare  she  say  it!  How  dare  she? — And 
if  I  did,  it  was  only  because  of  the  way  I  was  treated 
just  because  I  was  poor,  and  prettier  than  most  of  the 
other  girls — and  better  born.  It's  their  horrid  jeal- 
ousy and  wicked  evil  tongues  that  killed  my  mother. 
And — and — if  any  man  would  come  now  to  fetch  me 
in  his  car  I'd  go  gladly — rather  than  go  on  breathing 
the  same  air  as  a  lot  of  unkind  old  scandal-mongers 
like  yourselves.  And  it  wouldn't  be  me  God  would 
blame  the  most — " 

"Oh,  hush,  Zoe — don't  blaspheme — " 

"My  poor  child,  listen — " 

"Lena  didn't  mean  what  you — " 

"She  did,  she  did!  She  meant  to  be  nasty  from  the 
first,  because  I  wouldn't  take  her  horrid  hand,  the 
hypocrite!"  retorted  Zoe.  "Why,  I'd  as  soon  touch 
a  snake  or  a — a  leper!  And  you  were  all  listening,  and 
enjoying,  and  believing  every  word.  I  saw  you,  and 
I  hate  you,  every  one  of  you.  And — listen!  It's  true 
I  went  away  with  a  man — and — it's  just  as  true  I'm  go- 
ing to  him  now — 

She  flung  off  Mrs.  Clayden's  detaining  arm,  brushed 
past  Mrs.  Hodder,  scowled  at  Lena,  and  tore  back  to- 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      267 

wards  the  house,  before  any  of  them  had  recovered 
from  the  effect  of  the  bomb  she  had  flung  in  their 
midst. 

"Of  course  it  isn't  true,  and  she  doesn't  mean  any- 
thing of  the  kind,"  said  Mrs.  Clayden,  with  a  nervous 
little  laugh  as  she  tried  to  persuade  them  to  finish 
their  tea  and  regard  the  matter  as  an  unfortunate  ex- 
hibition of  a  schoolgirl's  temper,  which  none  would 
regret  more  than  Zoe  herself  when  she  had  cooled 
down. 

"It's  a  pity!"  agreed  the  Vicar's  wife.  "Such  a 
lovely  girl,  too!  But  there!  As  I  always  say  beauty 
is  only  skin  deep  after  all.  Let  it  be  a  lesson  to  you, 
Lena,  to  control  your  passions  at  all  times." 

"And  to  curb  your  imagination  and  your  tongue," 
murmured  a  quiet  little  woman  with  sympathetic  eyes. 

"Ah,  that  poor  tongue!  What  does  the  Bible  say?" 
laughed  another. 

Thus  each,  as  Mrs.  Clayden  told  Hales,  who  told  Zoe 
later  on,  did  her  best  to  restore  peace  in  the  fluttered 
circle,  yet  most  probably  all,  excepting  perhaps  the 
quiet  woman,  went  away  believing  there  was  a  good 
deal  of  truth  in  Lena's  story,  after  all. 

Meanwhile  Zoe  tossed  some  things  into  a  handbag, 
changed  into  walking  attire  and  labeled  her  trunks. 
She  was  too  angry  to  realize  the  extent  of  her  offense 
in  going  off  like  this.  She  wanted  to  be  out  and  away 
from  a  life  which,  she  had  now  proved,  she  could  not 
live. 

Trams  ran  from  Edgware  to  Cricklewood.  There  she 
could  take  a  'bus  through  Kilburn  to  the  Marble  Arch, 
and  thence  anywhere.  No  one  saw  her  go.  The  maids 
were  in  their  own  quarters  and  the  group  under  the 
cedar  tree  had  not  yet  broken  up.  She  reflected,  with 
sudden  anger,  that  they  were  still  discussing  her  and 
hated  Lena  with  every  fiber  of  her  being. 


268  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

She  had  got  to  the  Marble  Arch  by  the  time  she  de- 
cided that  of  course  she  was  going  back  to  the  stage. 
She  had  tried  to  please  Hales  by  seeking  other  work, 
but  that  was  over  now.  She  had  done  with  humbug 
and  wanted  London  and  gayety.  The  very  sight  of  the 
crowded  pavements  stirred  her  blood.  She  wondered 
how  she  could  have  kept  away  so  long.  She  had  enough 
money  to  pay  for  comfortable  lodgings  for  a  week  or 
two,  and  decided  to  go  to  a  small  hotel  she  had  seen 
in  a  side  street  near  Charing  Cross.  She  smiled  grimly 
as  she  recalled  her  threat  on  leaving  the  startled  group. 
Of  course  they  had  believed  her  and  were  probably  tell- 
ing others  that  she  had  fled  with  a  man  in  a  gray  mo- 
tor-car. But  to-morrow  she  would  write  to  say  she 
was  sorry  she  had  to  leave  so  suddenly  and  ask  for 
her  trunk  to  be  sent  to  the  respectable  lodgings  where 
she  was  looking  out  for  work.  The  laugh  would  then 
be  on  her  side. 

As  for  work — what?  Hadn't  Deller  said  he  might 
have  something  for  her  next  time  she  applied?  She 
would  go  to  the  Glorious  to-night  and  see  what  Gracie 
said.  They  had  not  met  since  the  day  they  had  ap- 
plied there  together.  Pride  had  prevented  her  going, 
but  now  she  was  forgetting  what  pride  was. 

She  secured  a  room  without  any  difficulty  in  the 
dreary  but,  at  all  events,  respectable  house  which  bore 
the  legend  of  Burton's  Private  Hotel.  The  outlook 
from  her  window  was  over  roofs  and  stacks  of  chimney 
pots.  The  rumble  of  London  came  floating  in  to  stir  her 
pulses  and  make  her  forget  her  loneliness.  She  un- 
packed her  bag,  locked  the  door  and  ran  eagerly  down 
the  steep  stairs.  She  felt  very  hungry  and  decided  to 
try  the  table  d'hote  dinner.  In  spite  of  her  troubles 
she  had  not  yet  learned  the  value  of  money  and  the 
thought  of  her  well-stocked  purse  was  cheering  enough 
to  spur  her  on  to  any  extravagance.  It  was  only  when 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      269 

her  money  had  nearly  all  dwindled  away  that  she  would 
grow  anxious  and  wonder  where  it  had  gone. 

The  door  was  open  when  she  reached  the  Glorious,' 
which  was  enveloped  in  a  blaze  of  light  and  colored 
posters.  London  was  beginning  to  fill  again,  and  a 
never-ending  procession  of  carriages,  motor-cars  and 
taxis  were  drawing  up  at  the  grand  entrance.  She 
watched  the  expensively  dressed  women,  escorted  by 
equally  expensive-looking!  men.  How  free  from  care 
they  looked;  so  wrapped  in  opulence  that  gulfs  seemed 
to  divide  them  from  the  watching  crowd.  That  was  the 
world  she  belonged  to — the  world  she  had  perhaps  more 
right  to  than  many  in  it — and — yet  here  she  was,  un- 
noticed, ignored  by  all. 

An  idea  suddenly  seized  her.     She  would  go  in,  too. 

As  she  entered,  and  made  for  the  booking  office,  she 
was  startled  to  see  Gracie's  full-sized  photograph  smil- 
ing at  her  from  the  foot  of  the  crimson  carpeted  stairs. 
Gracie!  Who  a  few  months  back  was  quite  unknown. 
She  remembered  how  beautifully  the  girl  danced,  and 
yet  how  plain  and  commonplace  she  was.  She  heard 
bits  of  conversation  from  those  around  and  gathered 
that  it  was  the  first  night  of  "The  River  Girl,"  that 
Gracie"  was  in  the  title  role.  Somehow  that  seemed  a 
good  omen.  She  moved  with  a  feeling  of  elation  to- 
wards the  office. 

"She's  a  wonderful  dancer,"  said  a  clear  voice  be- 
hind her.  "Leonora  can't  compare  with  her.  It  isn't 
that  she's  beautiful,  either." 

"They  say  the  Duke  of  Aile  thinks  so." 

"He's  shown  it — their  engagement  is  announced  to- 
night!" 

Gracie  a  Duchess!  Ugly,  vulgar  Gracie!  She  could 
hardly  believe  her  ears  and  was  so  surprised  that  she 
forgot  to  get  her  ticket.  At  the  entrance  to  the  dress 
circle  she  was  stopped  by  an  official: 


270  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

"Your  ticket,  Madam." 

"I — I — "  she  faltered,  confused. 

"The  lady's  made  a  mistake,  ours  are  stalls," 
said  a  familiar  voice  beside  her.  And  Raynor 's  hand 
was  passed  under  her  arm  whilst  he  led  her  down 
again. 

"Don't,"  she  whispered,  twisting  herself  free. 
"How  dare  you  touch  me — you  sneak?" 

Raynor  gave  a  little  laugh: 

"Strong  language,  my  child — when  I'm  only  asking 
you  to  sit  with  me." 

"I  don't  want  to — I  don't  want  to  have  anything  to 
do  with  you.  I'm  not  so  poor  that  I  can't  afford  my 
own  ticket." 

"Of  course  not.     Only  I'm  lonely — " 

"I  can't  help  that,"  she  replied,  moving  away. 
"And  I'm  going  anyhow." 

"Don't  be  a  silly  little  fool— listen— " 

"I  tell  you  I  don't  want  to  have  anything  to  do  with 
you;  I'm  going  to — get  to — " 

"Don't  be  a  silly  little  fool." 

She  pushed  through  the  heavy  swinging  doors  and 
stepped  into  the  street.  It  was  fairly  empty  now — the 
pit  and  gallery  queues  had  gone  in  long  ago — a  stray 
taxi  or  two  came  rushing  up.  She  paused,  telling  her- 
self she  would  take  one  and  get  out  of  his  way.  The 
unexpected  meeting  filled  her  with  sudden  apprehen- 
sion. There  was  something  in  him  that  attracted  her. 
She  felt  afraid  of  it.  Moreover,  she  was  very  angry 
with  him  and  knew  that  any  further  conversation  must 
lead  to  her  saying  more  than  she  might  care  to  recall. 
She  was  just  about  to  put  up  her  hand  when  she  felt 
a  slight  touch  upon  her  shoulder. 

"Zoe,"  said  Raynor,  "don't  be  a  fool.     Come  back." 

"No,  I  won't,  I  don't  want  to.     I'm  going  home." 

"To  that  young  idiot,  Keith?" 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      271 

"You  know  it  isn't.  You  did  your  best  to  prevent 
that,"  she  exclaimed  bitterly,  walking  on  briskly. 

''Silly  little  child.  Don't  you  know  all's  fair  m 
love  and  war?"  he  murmured  as  he  followed.  "That 
I  love  you!" 

"Love!"  she  sneered. 

"Yes,  love!  Haven't  you  had  a  proof  of  it?  Wasn't 
I  willing  to  go  on  showing  it?  It's  you  who 're  the 
sneak,  Zoe — or  rather  the  traitor.  You  left  me  for  that 
young  fop,  and — " 

"Don't  call  him  names  to  me." 

"Well — he's  been  a  pretty  beastly  cad  to  you,  my 
dear." 

"Because  you  interfered  and — and  told  him  lies 
and—" 

"Not  lies,  Zoe.  You  came  to  me  willingly  you  know. 
You  wouldn't  have  left  me  if  it  hadn't  been  for  your 
trouble.  Then  you  got  some  foolish  idea  into  that  lovely 
little  head  and  imagined  I  was  a  monster  of  iniquity, 
and  that  he — who  took  you  from  me,  was  a  god. 
We're  both  very  much  alike  really,  only  his  love  for 
you  has  gone,  and  mine  has  not.  And  as  for  what  I 
told  him,  I  couldn't  help  it.  I  didn't  know  you  were 
with  him  and  I  was  anxiously  seeking  you.  Then  I  met 
him  in  Piccadilly  and  asked  if  he  knew  where  you  were 
— and  it  all  came  out — " 

"Well,  it  isn't  any  good  talking  about  it,  now,"  she 
said,  with  a  sigh.  "He's  done  with  me — and  I — with 
him  and  you." 

"You  wouldn't  if  you  knew  how  I've  been  longing 
and  looking  for  you.  For  I  guessed  he'd  leave  you  in 
the  lurch,  but  couldn't  find  out  where  you  were." 

"I'm  not  in  the  gutter,  if  that's  what  you  mean," 
she  exclaimed  angrily.  "I  have  plenty  of — of 
friends ! ' ' 

"I'm  sure  of  it.    You  deserve  shoals  of  them,"  he 


272  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

smiled,  as  they  crossed  the  road  and  turned  into  a 
quiet  byway. 

"I  wish  you'd  leave  me  alone,"  went  on  Zoe. 
"You've  prevented  me  staying  to  see  the  play." 

' '  I  prevented  you !  When  I  asked  you  to  sit  it  through 
with  me — I  followed  you  in  on  purpose.  I  wanted  to 
see  you,  close  to,  again." 

"You  always  go  to  first  nights,  so  that  isn't  true — " 

"All  the  same,  I  followed  you — you  were  standing 
outside  when  my  taxi  stopped.  I  could  hardly  believe 
my  eyes.  I'd  been  eating  my  heart  out  for  you,  and 
I  was  so  glad  to  see  you  that  I  thought  you'd  be  pleased 
to  see  me  and  listen  to  me — " 

"I  don't  want  to — I  don't  ever  want  to  hear  a  word 
from  you,"  she  retorted  angrily.  "And  you  won't 
make  me  either." 

"I  shouldn't  dream  of  making  you.  I  shouldn't 
dream  of  forcing  anyone  to  love  me.  If  you  come  back 
to  me,  you  must  -come  willingly.  •  But,  I  '11  tell  you  this, 
my  girl — if  you  come  you'll  never  regret  it.  You'll 
have  everything  that  money  can  give  you — go  where 
you  like — do  what  you  like — all  in  return  for  a  little 
love  given  ungrudgingly  out  of  your  sweet  heart. ' ' 

His  voice  shook  with  emotion  as  he  spoke,  walking 
close  beside  her,  without  attempting  to  touch  or  force 
her  to  him. 

She  made  no  reply.  Her  mind  circled  back  to  her 
life  during  the  last  months,  the  ups  and  downs,  the  un- 
satisfied longings  and  constant  unrest.  Then  had  fol- 
lowed those  weeks  of  bliss — when  the  thought  of  work 
no  longer  worried  her  and  yet  here  she  was — homeless, 
likely  to  be  penniless  ere  long.  For  Deller  would  cer- 
tainly require  no  one  yet — and  the  others,  who  could 
help,  were  not  in  town. 

She  had  only  to  stretch  out  her  hand  and  wealth  and 
comfort  were  hers  to  command.  A  life,  of  plenty  and 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      273 

content,  not  such  as  satisfied  Mrs.  Clayden  and  her 
kind,  but  the  glorious  life  of  pleasure  she  loved.  What 
he  asked  in  return  was  little  enough,  in  all  faith. 

They  had  reached  Piccadilly  Circus,  and  she  stood 
irresolute  upon  the  curb. 

"Are  you  hungry?"  he  asked. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"I  dined  at  my  hotel — and  I  really  wanted  to  see 
that  play,"  she  faltered. 

He  laughed  and  beckoned  a  taxi. 

She  hesitated  before  getting  in.  A  thousand  things 
had  flashed  into  her  mind,  a  procession  of  faces  passed 
before  her  eyes.  She  had  the  feeling  of  one  standing 
on  the  edge  of  a  precipice — something  urged  her  down 
whilst  something  called  her  back.  Up  here  she  knew 
exactly  what  there  was;  patches  of  barren  waste  land 
— a  field  or  two — a  stony  road —  Down  there — who 
knew  what  beauties  lurked  within  those  depths? 

She  took  the  plunge.  In  other  words,  she  got  into 
the  cab  and  sat  down  with  a  thumping  heart. 

"I  don't  think  I  want  to  go  there,  after  all,"  she 
ventured  as  he  followed. 

"Well  then — we  won't.  We'll  go  to  the  Majestic — 
and  see  Leonora  dance. 

"What  a  fickle  puss,  it  is!  Why  don't  you  want  to 
go?" 

"I've  seen  Gracie  dance  before — I  only  went  because 
I  wanted  to  speak  to  her  between  the  acts.  But  now, 
there's  no  reason  why  I  should." 

"Why  not?" 

"For  one  thing  she  won't  want  to  see  me  to-night. 
I  heard  someone  say  she  was  engaged  to  a  duke —  Is 
it  true?  It  seems  impossible!  She's  such  a  dreadful 
cockney,  quite  out  of  the  gutter  and — " 

"It's  just  those  that  catch  the  dukes — their  vulgar- 
ity's so  refreshing  to  the  young  idiots  that  they  fancy 
it'll  go  on  amusing  them  all  their  lives — and  so  they 


274  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

let  themselves  get  caught.  They  know  they're  being 
fished  for — and  they  bite  willingly.  But  Grade's  a 
good  sort,  and  she  ought  to  feel  flattered  at  your  call- 
ing on  her." 

"I  don't  want  to — now,"  said  Zoe  shortly. 

"That's  how  I  dispose  of  everything  that  displeases 
me,"  he  said,  throwing  the  tickets  out  of  the  open  win- 
dow. ' '  To  the  four  winds  with  it ! " 

"You  can  afford  to,"  said  Zoe,  impressed  by  his 
indifference  to  the  waste  of  a  guinea. 

"Not  always  so  easily,"  he  smiled.  "Now  there's 
that  young  brute  who's  been  so  horrid  to  you — " 

"Don't.  I'm  going  to  tear  up  all  memory  of  him — 
and — throw  the  pieces  to  the  four  winds!  And  you 
must  help  me!"  she  laughed,  a  little  hysterically. 

"My  dear — of  course  I  will." 

"  If  I  tell  you  I  '11  forgive  you — although  I  was  fright- 
fully annoyed  with  you — what  will  you  say?" 

"That  you'll  never  have  cause  to  be  angry  again. 
That  I'm  your  slave  to  command.  What's  mine  is 
yours.  What  doth  your  ladyship  require? — Sapristi! 
It's  here.  Where  doth  your  Highness  wish  to  go? 
Pegasus  shall  bear  you  there — " 

"Where?" 

"Shall  we  say  Paris,  first?" 

"Done!  I'm  sick  of  London.  Of  everything  in, 
above,  and  around  it.  Will  you  forgive  me  for  being 
cross  and  take  me  away  from  it?" 

"Will  I!    We'll  go  to-morrow!" 

He  seized  her  hand.  It  fluttered  like  a  frightened 
bird.  For  she  could  not  see,  for  the  darkness  around. 
And  high  up,  on  the  safe  banks  she  had  left  forever,  she 
saw  a  face — her  mother's. 

The  next  moment  from  the  security  of  his  arms — 
she  laughed  back  mockingly,  and  bade  good-by  to  pov- 
erty, toil  and  trouble. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

*  {fllHEN  it's  settled.    There'll  be  no  nonsense  this 
1    time?" 

"Such  as?" 

Zoe's  eyes,  dark-rimmed,  tired,  though  still  beautiful, 
were  fixed  intently  on  Keith's  face.  There  was  a  look 
of  expectancy  in  them — on  her  pinched  features. 

"You  know,"  said  Keith,  flicking  some  cigarette  ash 
from  his  sleeve.  "Getting  bored,  and  going  for  long 
walks  with  strange  men." 

"You  needn't  be  afraid  of  that.  I  don't  care  if  I 
never  see  another  man  but  you —  That's  all  I  ask.  I 
was  sick  of  London  seven  months  ago,  I'm  just  as  sick 
of  Paris  now. ' ' 

"I  don't  wonder,  poor  kid,"  he  murmured  kindly, 
"but  thank  goodness  that's  over.  We'll  settle  down  in 
our  little  nest  and  be  as  happy  as  turtle  doves, — but — 
there's  something  else." 

"What?"    Her  face  paled  and  her  eyes  widened. 

He  pointed  to  the  wine-glasses  in  front  of  them. 

"That.    No  wine  or  absinthe,  unless  I  give  it  you." 

"Why?" 

"Because  it's  getting  to  be  a  habit — and  habits  aren't 
dropped  as  easily  as  they're  picked  up." 

"I  couldn't  help  it.     I  wanted  to  forget — " 

"Well,  there'll  be  no  sorrows  to  drown  now,  and  a 
drinking  woman  is — the  devil!  I  don't  want  you  like 
that.  Love '11  make  you  forget,  little  Zoe — love!  The 
game  of  battledore  and  shuttlecock  is  over,  and  I've 
won." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

275 


276      THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

"Raynor  and  I  have  been  playing — both  battledores, 
with  you  as  shuttlecock.  That's  over  now." 

"Yes.  It's  over!  Thank  the  Lord!  I  never  meant 
to  see  him  again.  Here's  to  the  new  life — Roy — hur- 
rah!" 

She  threw  back  her  head  and  drained  the  glass. 
With  a  little  laugh  he  did  the  same. 

Through  the  smoke-filled,  heavily-scented  atmosphere 
her  eyes  swept  the  room.  It  was  large,  but  crowded 
with  men  and  women,  of  various  nationalities,  whose 
noisy  chatter,  and  loud  laughter,  vied  with  the  strains 
of  the  orchestra  which  occupied  one  end  of  the  room, 
whilst  around  it — along  the  sides,  leaving  the  center 
free, — were  the  bar  and  various  small  tables,  all  occu- 
pied by  couples  sipping  absinthe,  wine,  or  beer,  whilst 
they  carried  on  their  love  making  unabashed,  or  jested 
coarsely  with  their  neighbors. 

The  floor  was  taken  by  a  strange  medley  of  dancers 
who  gyrated  with  complete  abandon  to  the  music. 
Now  and  then  women  danced  together.  Here  and  there 
a  half-drunken  couple  stumbled  through  their  steps  or 
executed  a  wild  ragtime.  It  was  a  horrible  scene.  But 
Zoe  had  got  used  to  it.  She  had  danced  herself,  with 
many  a  stranger.  Had  learnt  to  drink  absinthe  with 
men  she  would  have  fled  from  a  few  months  ago.  Had 
laughed,  with  the  loudest,  at  more  than  one  coarse 
jest. 

But  her  business  there  was  really  on  the  platform, 
just  above  the  orchestra.  Here  singers,  reciters  and 
dancers  appeared,  from  time  to  time,  in  the  flimsiest  of 
garments  and  with  as  little  sense  of  decorum  as  the 
audience  itself. 

She  had  been  dancing  there  for  some  eight  weeks 
when  Keith,  wandering  down  the  Boulevard  Montmar- 
tre,  had  dropped  into  the  cafe  chantant  known  as  "La 
Chambre  Doree."  He  had  been  horrified  to  see  her 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      277 

there.  Her  beauty — exquisite  as  a  lily  in  that  awful 
milieu — captured  him  afresh.  She  looked  so  fragile, 
such  a  child,  despite  the  hard  lines  about  her  mouth,  the 
dare-devilry  of  her  speech,  that  he  was  filled  with  re- 
morse for  his  share  in  her  downfall.  Nevertheless,  he 
determined  to  avoid  temptation  and  keep  away,  consol- 
ing himself  with  the  assurance  that  it  was  Raynor  who 
was  really  to  blame — Raynor,  who  had  driven  her  to 
this  hell.  But,  a  night  or  two  later,  he  found  his  way 
back  just  as  Zoe  was  about  to  dance. 

She  saw  him  at  once,  and  danced  for  him.  She  sang 
Tosti's  "Good-bye,"  also  for  him,  and  seemed  as  sweet 
and  fresh  and  utterly  desirable  as  ever.  So  he  suc- 
cumbed and  told  his  plans.  He  would  take  a  cottage 
in  the  forest  of  Fontainebleau.  It  belonged  to  an  artist 
friend  who  had  gone  to  Canada  for  some  months. 
There  she  would  forget  all  she  had  grown  to  hate  in 
Paris,  and  later  they  might  go  back  to  England — or — 
would  she  trust  herself  to  him  anywhere?  Would  she 
let  him  arrange  her  life  forever? 

Tears  filled  her  eyes  as  she  assented.  She  told  her 
pitiful  story.  How  she  had  come  to  Paris  seven  months 
ago.  Raynor  had  taken  a  flat  near  the  Pare  Monceau, 
and — 

"Were  you  happy  with  him — really  happy?"  he 
asked. 

"As  happy  as  I  could  be  anywhere  without  you,  old 
dear — >  Or  knowing  I'm — I'm  not  what  I  was  meant  to 
be.  But  I  can't  help  that.  I  meant  to  be  as  good  as 
any  other  girl,  but  I  wasn't  given  a  chance — no  one 
explained  a  thing,  and  I  had  to  find  out  for  myself  that 
what  I  thought  firm  ground  beneath  my  feet  was  often 
oozy  bog,  or  bottomless  quicksand.  And  the  mud  sticks, 
be  it  ever  so  little,  Roy — and  good  people  are  quick  to 
detect  it.  They  know  nothing  of  your  floundering 
about  and  trying  to  get  away,  they  think  you  walked 


278  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

in  willingly  just  as  a  child  goes  out  to  paddle,  and 
they're  all  for  sending  you  back  lest  you  soil  their 
clean  floors  and  fresh  carpets.  And  their  life  is  so 
dull,  so  trivial,  so  mean.  There's  always  someone  to 
make  mountains  out  of  molecules,  to  read  a  nasty  mean- 
ing into  what  you  do  or  say.  It's  funny,  considering 
they're  supposed  to  know  nothing.  But  they're  often 
more  foul-minded  than  many  of  the  people  here —  They 
tell  you,  you're  wicked  until  they  make  you  so.  And  I 
wanted  life! —  Also  I  had  to  live —  But  I  had  no 
thought  of  Raymond  Raynor,  in  my  mind,  when  I  threw 
up  the  sponge.  I  only  meant  to  seek  the  work  I  like, 
and  to  keep  as  straight  in  it  as  millions  of  others  do. 
But  luck  was  against  me — •  Deller's  new  piece  was  on, 
he  had  no  vacancies,  and  the  thought  of  the  weary 
search  was  too  fearsome —  So  I  came  to  Paris  with 
Raymond  Raynor,  only  too  delighted  to  throw  poverty 
and  care  aside." 

''But  what  did  old  Hales  say?" 

"He  doesn't  know.  Raymond  sent  to  Edgeware  for 
my  trunk  and  the  man  took  a  letter  from  me  saying  I 
had  found  work  as  a  companion.  It  was  true  enough! 
— I've  heard  nothing  since.  You  say  he  looked  you  up 
and  asked  if  you  had  seen  me.  That  shows  he  didn't 
quite  believe  I  had  got  work.  Or — like  all  good  peo- 
ple, he  had  his  suspicions  and  couldn't  forget  the  mud 
I  had  been  in." 

She  gave  a  hard  little  laugh.  His  face  was  grave. 
"Was  he  blaming  himself  again?  He  needn't  do  that. 
She  didn't  regret  one  moment  spent  with  him — noth- 
ing except  their  terrible  parting — the  word  he  had  called 
her.  But,  she  had  earned  her  right  to  that  now!  Oh, 
yes — that,  and  worse! 

He  winced  a  little  at  the  words,  and  his  fair  face 
flushed. 

"Don't,  Zoe — I  was  a  brute.    Fact  is,  all  men  are 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      279 

brutes.  We  only  think  of  what  we  want  to  get.  And 
I  loved  you,  and  you — you — " 

"I  loved  you,  Roy — I  do  now.  I  never  want  to  see 
Raymond  again,  or  anyone.  I'd  rather  be  with  you  in 
a  little  hut  on  a  mountain  top  than  with  anyone  else 
in  a  palace.  I  want  to  be  as  good  as  I  can  be — now.  I 
don't  want  this  life.  I'll  worship  you  more  than  ever 
for  taking  me  out  of  it —  It's  too  late  for  me  to  be  as 
straight  as  Zoe  Dereham  ought  to  be,  but  I'll  do  the 
next  best — I'll  keep  straight  with  you,  and  for  you — " 

"And  forget  old  Raynor — I'm  not  as  rich  as  he 
is." 

"I'd  rather  go  to  anyone  than  him.  It's  true.  Oh, 
he  was  very  good  and  kind  and  attentive — but  I  owe 
this  to  him — "  She  waved  her  hand  round  the  room 
which  was  getting  more  crowded,  more  noisy,  less 
decorous. 

"And  I  can  never  forgive  him  that,"  she  ended,  with 
a  sob. 

Keith  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"Let's  get  out  of  it — now — at  once." 

Zoe  shook  her  head  and  smiled  sadly: 

"Not  so  fast — I'm  not  my  own  mistress  here. 
There's  Madame  to  reckon  with.  I'm  due  for  another 
dance  soon." 

"But — now  we've  arranged — " 

"After  the  dance,  we'll  settle  matters  with  her.  I 
daren't  risk  a  row,  or — " 

"Why  a  row?" 

She  sighed  and  glanced  quickly  round: 

"Perhaps  if  I  tell  you  everything  you'll  want  to 
change  your  mind  and  leave  me  here.  It  might  be  bet- 
ter for  you,  though  God  knows  it  would  be  worse  than 
hell  for  me  now  I've  had  a  glimpse  of  the  heaven  you 
offer  me — see  a  chance  of  rising  from  the  mire." 

He  sat  down  heavily. 


280  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

"Tell  me,"  he  murmured — "I  swear  I'll  keep  to  my 
word.  I  love  you,  Zoe — no  matter  what  has  happened. 
Jealousy,  even  more  than  disillusion,  made  me  put  you 
aside  once,  it  won't  do  so  again.  Whatever  you've 
done,  I  know  it's  because  you  couldn't  help  yourself. 
Underneath  it  all,  your  soul  is  still  as  beautiful  as 
your  face.  Fate's  been  against  you  from  the  first,  and 
I,  one  of  its  sorry  instruments,  thanks  to  my  cursed 
poverty  and — and — 

"Never  mind  that,"  she  interrupted,  her  face  aglow, 
her  heart  singing  with  joy  at  his  faith  in  her.  Ah! 
She  would  show  him  that  he  did  not  believe  in  vain. 
She  would  shake  off  these  horrible  shackles,  once  and 
for  all. 

"I  told  you  that  Raymond  was  kind,"  she  went  on. 
"I  believe  he  really  cared  for  me  a  lot.  He  gave  me  a 
ripping  time.  And  I  adored  Paris.  I  had  no  time 
to  think,  there  was  always  something  to  be  done.  But 
about  Christmas  time  he  began  to  change.  He  laughed 
at  my  singing,  complained  of  my  extravagance,  was 
sulky  and  preoccupied.  I  felt  frightened  and  showed 
it.  He  saw  that  and  played  with  me  like  a  cat  with  a 
mouse.  He  left  me  for  hours,  days  and  nights.  He 
went  to  Monte  Carle  for  three  weeks.  And  I  began 
to  think.  That's  fatal,  you  know — when — when — well, 
I  got  fond  of  champagne.  He  was  furious  about  that, 
when  he  came  back,  though  he  drank  heavily  himself. 
He  was  more  bestial  than  ever.  We  had  endless  rows. 
Then  suddenly  I  knew.  It  was  Madame  Dardino.  She 
had  him  in  her  power  again.  He  hadn't  told  her  about 
me,  but  she  found  out.  She  came  to  the  flat.  There 
was  a  dreadful  scene — we  were  fighting  like  cats  when 
he  came  home,  and  he  flung  me  out.  Hours  after,  I 
went  back.  The  concierge  sai'1  they  had  gone— that 
Lydia  had  called  to  see  me.  She  had  been  several  times 
since  I  met  her  in  the  Rue  de  Rivoli.  She  used  to  be 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      281 

in  the  Yellow  Ducklings,  and  was  the  first  to  explain 
things  I  did  not  know.  There  she  is,  over  there — " 

He  looked  at  a  handsome,  somewhat  florid,  woman 
who  was  dancing  a  waltz  with  an  English  tourist.  The 
man  was  none  too  sober,  and  Lydia  was  laughing  im- 
moderately at  him. 

"But  she's  a  good  sort,  all  the  same,"  said  Zoe,  noting 
the  look  in  Roy's  eyes.  "She  said  she  had  given  up 
struggling  for  a  living  to  lead  a  merry  life — but  she 
was  treated  pretty  much  as  Raynor  treated  me,  and 
drifted  over  here.  And  she  saved  my  life  then,  though 
I  don't  know  that  I  ought  to  be  grateful  to  her.  When 
the  concierge  told  her  what  had  happened  and  that  I 
had  gone,  no  one  knew  where,  she  got  frightened  and 
began  to  look  for  me.  She  found  me  down  by  the 
Seine — she  was  just  in  time.  Even  then  she  had  to 
struggle  with  me — you  see  I  was  mad  with  despair 
and  probably  hunger.  I  hadn't  a  penny  on  me — noth- 
ing to  make  life  seem  worth  living.  I  wanted  to  die. 
But  Lydia  wouldn't  let  me.  She  took  me  to  her  room 
and  looked  after  me.  Though  even  then  she  wouldn't 
help  me  to  this  kind  of  thing.  She  said  I  wasn't  fitted 
for  it.  But  it's  wonderful  what  you  can  do  when  you 
set  your  teeth.  She  wanted  to  keep  me  until  I  got 
suitable  work.  But  that  was  impossible  without  ref- 
erences or  friends.  So  one  day  I  followed  her  here — and 
danced —  Madame  wanted  me  to  sign  a  contract,  but 
Lydia  wouldn't  let  me.  She  said  I  must  be  left  free. 
But  I  soon  found  that  it  was  only  freedom  in  name. 
I  have  to  dance  twice  each  night  and  make  myself  pleas- 
ant to  any  man,  in  between.  And  I  so  hated  it,  that  I 
tried  to  get  employed  at  a  theater  instead — but  these 
people  had  me  watched,  and  threatened  to  denounce  me 
as  a  bad  character  to  the  police.  It  was  easier  to 
stay —  It  was  less  horrible  than  being  listed  as  a  "  pros- 
tituee,"  and  subjected  to  the  police  vigilance  that 


282  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

means.  Of  being  branded  whether  innocent  or  not. 
But  of  course  if  I  don't  have  to  look  for  work  they 
can't  watch  me  like  that." 

"We'll  make  sure  of  their  leaving  you  alone — at  all 
events,"  said  Roy.  "Let's  speak  to  Lydia — and  111 
see  Madame  afterwards." 

And  so  Zoe  bade  good-by  to  Paris. 

She  was  determined  to  like  the  new  life  no  matter  how 
lonely  she  might  be.  Roy  had  taken  over  the  old 
French  caretakers  with  the  cottage,  and  warned  her 
that  she  might  never  see  another  being  for  days  to- 
gether, when  he  was  in  England  where  of  course  he 
would  have  to  go  occasionally  to  keep  Sir  Jasper's  mind 
at  rest.  But  she  was  convinced  that  she  would  be  ab- 
solutely happy.  Lydia  had  promised  to  look  her  up. 
She  never  wished  to  see  anyone  else  who  could  remind 
her  how  deeply  she  had  drunk  of  the  dregs  of  life. 
She  loved  Roy  more  than  ever,  nothing  could  alter  that. 
She  was  sure  she  could  live  here  in  this  quaint  white 
cottage  on  the  edge  of  the  beautiful  forest,  forever  and 
ever. 

She  laughed  merrily  when  Lydia  said  she  deserved 
to  be  shot  if  she  changed  her  mind. 

"There's  no  fear  of  that — Lydia.  I'm  beyond  the 
pale,  of  course — but  I'll  do  my  best  to  stay  like  this. 
Perhaps  some  day  I  shall  get  back — become  as  good  and 
proper  as  I  might  have  been  if  my  eyes  had  \been 
opened  in  time — anyhow,  I've  found  one  thing  untrue." 

"What's  that?" 

"I've  got  a  neglected  opportunity  back — and  I'm 
making  the  best  of  it.  Don't  you  understand?  I  was 
told  once  that  there's  four  things  that  come  not  back: 
the  spoken  word,  the  sped  arrow,  the  past  life  and 
the  neglected  opportunity." 

"It  isn't  the  same  one,  silly.     Those  words  are  true 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      283 

enough.  If  we  go  about  in  sack-cloth  and  ashes  we'll 
never  change  our  pasts — shall  we  now?  I  don't  mind, 
my  life  is  better  than  it  was.  Awful  sometimes  with 
the  end  in  view  that  comes  to  all  like  me — the  end  I 
saved  you  from." 

Zoe  sat  hushed  in  the  pretty  cottage  room. 

"The  Seine?"  she  asked. 

"That  or  any  other  river.  We  all  drift  there  on  the 
tide  of  pleasure — or  the  ebb  of  pain.  Once  our  beau- 
ty's gone  what  are  we  worth?  Too  degraded  for  any 
other  life — .  But  you,  as  you  say — you  might  get  back — 
I  wonder,  Zoe,  if  you've  the  pluck  to  do  it,  really." 

"Oh,  don't  bother  your  head  about  that.  Let's  have 
a  drink!"  laughed  Zoe,  tossing  her  cigarette-end 
through  the  open  window  and  moving  towards  the 
door. 

"I  don't  mind  if  I  do,"  smiled  Lydia.  "It  helps 
one  to  get  over  these  silly  ideas.  I  don't  know  why 
I  have  them.  I  suppose  it's  the  country  air." 

After  the  first  few  days  Zoe  began  to  wonder  how 
she  could  possibly  not  feel  bored.  Her  love  for  music 
had  waned,  her  pleasure  in  dancing  was  gone.  The 
long  hours  in  the  cafe  had  left  her  too  exhausted  for 
anything  but  bed,  and  the  habit  clung  to  her  even  here. 
Roy  would  rise  early  for  a  long  walk — but  she  rarely 
got  up  before  twelve,  when  he  would  return  for 
dejeuner,  and  the  afternoon  would  be  spent  in  daw- 
dling about  the  green-shot  glades,  and  talking  more  or 
less  about  love. 

That  was  in  May — when  Nature  was  at  her  best. 
Zoe,  who  had  reveled  in  her  beauties  at  first,  and  loved 
her  when  a  child,  soon  found  too  much  sameness  in 
her  charms.  In  her  heart  she  wished  Roy  had  chosen 
the  Bois  de  Boulogne.  There  was  more  life  there. 

In  June  she  was  longing  for  the  sight  of  Paris.  She 
had  never  seen  the  acacias  in  full  bloom,  nor  the  city 


284  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

in  summer.  When  she  said  she  was  sick  of  it  she  meant 
of  Montmartre  and  the  dreadful  cafe — bat  Paris — the 
beautiful  city  of  fashion  and  endless  gayety,  must  be  a 
sight  in  June! 

Roy  weakened  and  hired  a  motor-ear.  They  spent 
the  day  away  from  the  cool  forest.  Zoe's  raptures  were 
less  for  the  acacias  down  the  Champs  Elysees  and  along 
the  boulevards  than  for  the  crowds  thronging  the  pave- 
ments. At  the  cafe  where  they  dined  she  was  amused 
and  pleased  to  see  how  people  looked  at  her.  She  was 
proud  of  Roy. 

"Look — they  think  we're  newly  married,"  she  whis- 
pered, and  drew  back  a  little  scared  by  the  scowl  on 
his  face. 

On  their  return  they  found  a  letter  forwarded  from 
his  hotel.  Sir  Jasper  was  in  town  and  thought  of  join- 
ing Roy  in  Paris  for  a  week  or  so.  Besides,  he  wanted 
to  talk  about  something  very  important.  With  a  grunt 
of  disapproval  Roy  stuffed  the  letter  in  his  pocket.  It 
was  a  nuisance,  but  he'd  have  to  meet  the  old  boy. 
Zoe  must  make  up  her  mind  to  do  without  him  as  long 
as  Sir  Jasper  stayed.  Would  she  be  happy — no  han- 
kerings after  Paris?  No  stealing  up  there  on  the 
sly? 

She  was  very  indignant.  Couldn't  he  trust  her? 
Wouldn't  he  believe  that  the  glimpse  he  had  given 
her  to-day  would  satisfy  her  for  months?  She'd  be  as 
happy  as  the  squirrels  or  the  birds.  Happier,  in  fact. 
For  she  knew  he  loved  her.  That  even  if  Sir  Jasper 
wanted  to  bother  him  about  marriage  he'd  find  some 
way  of  putting  it  off — until  perhaps  he  could  marry 
her!  Would  he  marry  her,  after  everything? 

"You  stupid  little  goose,"  he  laughed.  "You  know 
I  would.  But  there  isn't  much  chance  of  that  ever 
coming  off — old  Jasper  doesn't  allow  himself  to  be 


THE  LURE  OP  THE  FLAAIH          285 

talked  over.  But — I'll  tell  you  this,  Zoe — although 
I'm  willing  to  overlook  the  past,  you  must  remember 
the  present  is  mine.  I  trust  you.  Be  a  good  girl." 

She  pondered  his  words  seriously.  He  should  have 
no  cause  for  complaint.  Though  if  she  had  known 
how  terribly  quiet  and  lonely  it  was,  in  that  particular 
part  of  the  forest,  she  would  never  have  said  she  wrould 
be  happy  alone.  The  old  woman  who  did  the  cook- 
ing and  housework  was  as  deaf  as  a  post — the  old  man 
taciturn  enough  to  be  likewise,  though  there  was  some 
pleasure  to  be  derived  from  seeing  them  about.  But 
after  a  day  or  two  she  recalled  a  story  she  had  heard 
about  a  couple  like  these  two  (who  knew — they  might 
be  the  same!)  murdering  their  young  mistress.  And 
she  got  nervous  and  took  to  locking  herself  up  for 
hours —  Then  that  mood  passed,  when  she  had  argued 
that  she  was  a  fool  and  not  worth  killing  considering 
it  was  Roy  who  had  the  money,  and  she  began  to  take 
longer  walks  in  search  of  some  excitement.  But  she 
kept  her  promise  not  to  speak  to  strange  men,  though 
she  met  one  or  two  who  would  have  been  willing  to 
speak  to  her.  One  day  she  passed  a  party  of  jolly  Eng- 
lish girls  and  went  home  feeling  very  wretched.  For 
she  suddenly  realized  the  gulf  between  them  and  her- 
self— all  they  stood  for;  the  happy  English  home,  the 
sweet,  clean  life.  She  realized  how  evil  she  had  be- 
come, how  warped  her  nature,  how  blunted  her  sense 
of  morality.  She  wept  for  hours.  She  was  sure  that 
if  Mr.  Hales  had  put  her  amongst  such  girls,  with  such 
a  woman  as  their  mother  seemed  to  be,  she  would  never 
have  come  to  Paris  with  Raynor. 

That  night  she  drank  too  much. 

The  next  day,  when  she  sat  in  the  small  garden,  feel- 
ing an  absolute  sinner,  she  suddenly  heard  the  gate 
click  and  saw  Mr.  Hales  coming  towards  her.  Her  sur- 


286  THE  LUKE  OF  THE  FLAME 

prise  was  immense.  He  seemed  to  come  in  answer  to 
her  prayer — and  yet,  was  he  to  be  trusted  a  second 
time? 

"History  repeats  itself,"  she  smiled,  determined  to 
be  as  indifferent  as  possible.  "Did  you  know  I  was 
here — or  did  you  think  the  cottage  a  possible  haven? 
Or  have  you  come  to  scold  about  Edgeware — I  haven't 
seen  you  since  then,  have  I?" 

"Ate  you  say,  history  repeats  itself,"  he  replied  eva- 
sively. "I've  come  to  see  you — for  the  same  reason." 

"Did  Roy  snd  you?"  she  asked  eagerly. 

At  the  thought  of  losing  Boy  all  her  remorse  fled. 
She  meant  to  fight  for  her  lover  this  time. 

"No.  I  came  over  with  Sir  Jasper.  But  I  had  been 
wondering  what  was  keeping  Roy  in  France,  and  when 
he  mentioned  quite  casually  that  he  had  stayed  in  the 
forest,  I  guessed  the  attraction  was  here.  I  taxed  him 
with  it — but  he  would  not  say.  I  wondered  if  it 
could  be  you.  And  as  I  knew  this  was  the  cottage 
where  he  must  have  sta}red — it  belongs  to  a  mutual 
friend — I  came — " 

"But — I  don't  understand.     Does  he  know?" 

"No — I  thought  I  would  appeal  to  you  first,  Zoe — 
to  your  better  nature,  to  the  good  in  you." 

"Can  you  believe  there's  anything  good  in  me  after 
Edgeware?" 

"Yes — most  certainly,"  he  replied  gravely — and  then 
kindly  and  almost  pleadingly  he  went  on  to  show  her 
not  only  the  wrong  she  was  doing  to  herself,  but  the 
harm  she  was  doing  to  Keith —  Sir  Jasper  was  angry 
with  the  boy.  He  was  neglecting  duties  by  staying 
away  from  home —  If  she  would  give  him  up  he  would 
help  her  again. 

"How?  By  taking  me  back  to  Mrs.  Clayden?" 
sneered  Zoe. 

"How  would  you  like  my  bee-keeping  friend?     She's 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      287 

young  and  jolly.  She  has  three  or  four  other  girls 
with  her." 

"I  don't  know.  I  must  think  about  it,"  retorted 
Zoe,  with  an  ill-concealed  yawn.  "Have  a  drink — 
whiskey  and  soda,  I  suppose.  I  prefer  an  absinthe." 

"When  will  you  decide?"  he  asked,  as  he  was  about 
to  go. 

"I'll  tell  you  to-morrow,  old  man,"  she  answered 
wickedly.  "But  remember,  if  I  say  yes,  no  Mrs.  Clay- 
dens,  young  or  old." 

She  laughed  silently  as  she  watched  him  go.  He  was 
shocked.  It  was  fun  shocking  parsons.  And  yet — she 
burst  into  uncontrollable  tears.  Why  should  she  give 
Roy  up?  And  go  to  a  bee  farm  with  a  lot  of  stupid 
girls  who  might  behave  like  Lena — no,  thank  you! 
But,  could  it  be  more  lonely  there  than  here —  Could 
they  be  more  boring  than  Roy  was,  at  times?  And  yet 
she  loved  Roy — loved  him — loved  him!  And  just  be- 
cause she  loved  him,  oughtn't  she  to  give  him  up? 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

IT  was  about  eleven  o'clock  the  next  morning  when 
Lydia,  passing  a  small  alley  leading  into  the  Boule- 
vard Montmartre,  suddenly  saw  the  familiar  figure  of 
a  girl  dart  back  and  disappear  through  a  doorway. 

"Zoe!"  she  ejaculated.     "By  gum!     Zoe!" 

Yet  she  could  hardly  believe  her  eyes,  and  stood 
looking  up  the  sordid  byway  as  though  she  expected  to 
see  her  emerge  again.  Then  realizing  that,  if  it  really 
were  Zoe,  the  girl  had  probably  run  away  from  her,  she 
ran  forward  hurriedly,  made  for  the  same  door,  and 
plunged  into  a  narrow  passage.  There,  sure  enough, 
stood  Zoe,  shrinking  back  against  the  wall,  her  eyes  wells 
of  tears,  her  face  haggard. 

"What  the  devil  are  you  doing  here?"  demanded 
Lydia,  seizing  her  by  the  shoulders  and  twisting  her 
round  until  the  light  fell  full  upon  her  tell-tale  fea- 
tures. "Why  aren't  you  in  Fontainebleau  ?  Do  you 
know  what  kind  of  place  you're  in?  Can't  you  speak? 
Have  you  lost  your  tongue  as  well  as  your  senses?" 

"Let  me  go,  leave  me  alone,"  whimpered  Zoe. 

"Not  me.  I'm  going  to  stick  to  you  like  a  leech,  my 
child.  If  I  don't,  others  will — and  they  won't  let  you 
go  easily,  either." 

"I'm  able  to  look  after  myself,"  said  Zoe  ungra- 
ciously. 

"It  looks  like  it,  when  I  find  you  coming  out  of  one 
of  the  worst  houses  in  the  neighborhood.  Where's  Mr. 
Keith  ?  He  didn  't  bring  you  here,  so  don 't  pretend  it. ' ' 

"I  never  said  he  did — and — " 

288 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      289 

"Then,  who  did?  Have  you  quarreled  with  Mr. 
Keith?" 

"No — I've  come  of  my  own  accord." 

"Then  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself,  Zoe 
Dereham,  after  all  your  promises  to  keep  straight,  and 
true  to  him.  For  you  haven't  been  here  alone,  I  know. 
It'll  serve  you  right  if  he  sends  you  back." 

"He  won't  have  the  chance,"  said  Zoe  grimly. 

"Then  you  have  run  away!  I'm  disgusted  with  you. 
Here,  let's  get  out  of  this —  Is  that  your  bag ?  Nothing 
else  upstairs?  Then  come." 

She  had  picked  up  the  bag  Zoe  had  set  against  the 
wall  and,  taking  the  girl  by  the  arm,  led  her  out. 

"You're  jolly  lucky  to  get  out  of  there  like  this," 
she  said,  as  they  walked  briskly  down  into  the  boule- 
vard. "You  must  have  a  good  guardian  angel  watch- 
ing over  you,  that's  all  I  can  say." 

"Don't  you  consider  you're  acting  towards  me  in 
that  capacity?"  sneered  Zoe,  who  felt  a  little  startled 
all  the  same,  though  in  too  sulky  a  mood  to  express 
her  gratitude. 

"Well — I've  had  a  good  try,  my  girl — though  I'm 
not  quite  sure  you're  worth  it.  I'm  not  so  sure  that 
I  wouldn't  have  given  you  up  before,  but — it's  look- 
ing after  silly  kids  like  you  that  saves  me  from  becom- 
ing a  besotted  animal  like  most  of  the  women  we  see 
at  'La  Chambre  Doree.'  But,  thank  goodness,  they're 
not  all  as  tiresome  as  you  are,  for  which  you  ought 
to  be  ashamed  considering  you're  a  lady.  I  suppose 
that  bears  out  what  I've  always  heard:  when  a  lady 
falls  she  sinks  lower  than  any  other  woman." 

"Pooh,"  snapped  Zoe,  "I  don't  believe  it.  Anyhow, 
I've  lost  my  right  to  the  title  now." 

"Here.  I'm  hungry,"  said  Lydia,  giving  her  a 
searching  glance  and  stopping  outside  a  respectable 
looking  restaurant.  "Let's  go  in  and  have  something." 


290  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

"I  don't  mind — but  I'm  not  hungry." 

"Well,  I  am — so  there,"  retorted  Lydia,  pushing  Zoe 
through  the  door  and  leading  her  to  a  secluded  table. 
' '  And  whilst  we  're  eating  you  can  tell  me  how  you  come 
to  be  here,  and  why — and  the  rest." 

Zoe  was  hungry.  She  had  eaten  nothing  since  her 
dinner  the  night  before,  and  then  she  had  merely  picked 
over  her  food  hurriedly.  And  as  she  ate,  with  more 
relish  than  she  had  felt  for  some  time,  her  reserve 
melted  and  she  told  Lydia  everything. 

First,  Mr.  Hales  had  called  and  told  her  she  was  ruin- 
ing Roy's  career  and  youth — offering  to  help  her  to 
regain  her  footing  in  her  own  world,  promising  to  come 
again  to-day  for  his  answer. 

"Which  he  won't  get — after  all!"  she  ended  glee- 
fully, her  eager  eye  on  the  bottle  of  champagne  Lydia 
had  ordered. 

"Yes,  he  will — leastways  an  equivalent — your  ab- 
sence." 

"But  he  won't  know  what  it  means.  I  may  be  going 
back  any  moment.  I  may,  if  not,  be  knocking  about 
to  tempt  Roy.  I  may  have  come  to  Roy  at  the  hotel. 
He'll  be  in  a  fever  of  anxiety.  And — serve  him  right, 
too,  for  interfering." 

"H'm,"  ejaculated  Lydia.  "What  does  it  mean, 
really." 

"Can't  you  guess?  I'm  not  going  to  ruin  Roy's  ca- 
reer— I'm  putting  his  interests  before  mine."  She 
said  it  as  though  she  really  believed  it,  though  her  eyes 
dropped  from  Lydia 's  to  her  plate. 

"Rot!"  exclaimed  that  young  woman.  "I'm  begin- 
ning to  know  you,  Zoe.  Therefore,  I'll  believe  as  much 
of  that  tosh  as  I  like.  But  we'll  leave  it  at  that.  Mr. 
Hales  showed  you  your  duty  and  like  a  noble  self-sacri- 
ficing girl  you  took  yourself  off —  What  next?  Did  you 
walk  to  Paris  in  order  to  save  the  beloved's  money?" 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      291 

"I  sha'n't  tell  you  anything  if  you  sneer  like 
that—" 

"I  can  make  a  pretty  good  guess,  my  child.  You 
started  off  with  the  intention  of  going  to  the  dogs  as 
quickly  as  you  could,  to  prove  how  unworthy  you  are 
of  Mr.  Keith." 

"No — I  didn't.  So  you're  wrong.  I  really  came  up 
to  go  to  the  English  Home." 

"Gosh!  You're  like  a  surprise  packet,  Zoe.  Did 
you  mistake  the  Maison  de  Joie  for  that  very  respec- 
table place?" 

Zoe  colored  and  looked  annoyed.  But  Lydia  was  too 
kind-hearted,  too  genuinely  anxious  to  help,  for  her  to 
remain  vexed.  She  had  been  drinking  freely  enough 
to  feel  talkative  and  went  on  hurriedly  with  her  story. 

She  really  was  touched  by  what  Hales  said  and  sud- 
denly longed  to  throw  off  the  shackles  of  shame.  But 
she  decided  to  manage  without  Hales'  help.  For  he 
would  only  send  her  to  a  dull  hole  like  Edgeware.  She 
had  heard  about  this  English  home  when  she  was  at 
"La  Chambre  Doree."  It  was  not  their  fault  that  the 
woman  who  told  her  about  it  had  gone  wrong.  They 
were  very  particular  about  the  posts  their  girls  applied 
for.  It  was  just  a  home  for  English  girls  where  they 
could  go  until  they  got  employment,  or  to  get  advice. 
She  might  get  something  respectable  from  there.  As 
interpreter  in  a  shop,  or  nursery  governess,  or — well, 
there  were  dozens  of  things  she  could  do.  She  had  only 
failed  before  because  she  had  had  no  influential  person 
behind  her. 

"You  had  those  in  England,"  commented  Lydia.  "I 
mean  when  Mr.  Hales  was  looking  after  you." 

"Yes — and  I  could  have  got  something  if  I  hadn't 
lost  patience — " 

"And  something  else,"  teased  Lydia.  "Don't  glare 
like  that — have  another  drink." 


292  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

"I  don't  mind  if  I  do.  It  does  help  one  to  get 
through  things,  doesn't  it?" 

"That  and  morphia  are  my  best  friends,"  laughed 
Lydia,  as  she  lit  a  cigarette. 

"They're  beginning  to  be  mine,"  said  Zoe,  "though 
last  night  absinthe  played  me  a  nasty  trick.  But  I  sup- 
pose it  had  to  be." 

She  sighed,  sipped  her  wine  and  went  on. 

It  appeared  that  she  left  the  cottage  after  dinner. 
She  told  old  Josephine  that  Keith  expected  her,  but, 
as  she  didn't  quite  know  where  she  would  stay,  her  lug- 
gage had  better  be  taken  by  the  carrier  to  the  place 
where  he  put  up  in  Paris  and  left  to  be  called  for. 
Then  she  walked  to  Fontainebleau  station.  It  was  a 
lonely  road  and  she  had  one  or  two  frights.  A  young 
man  in  a  motor-car  offered  her  a  lift.  She  was  only  too 
glad  to  accept  it.  It  happened  that  he  was  going  to 
Paris.  He  offered  to  take  her.  She  accepted  quite 
gladly.  She  was  tired  of  her  own  company,  and  only 
too  pleased  to  have  someone  to  speak  to.  He  was  very 
nice — rough  perhaps — probably  a  tradesman.  They 
stopped  for  refreshment  on  the  way.  She  could  eat 
nothing.  But  she  drank —  When  they  got  to  the  out- 
skirts of  Paris  she  nearly  danced  with  joy.  She  re- 
alized how  dull  she  must  have  been.  Of  course  she 
didn't  prefer  the  ugly  suburban  streets  to  the  lovely 
forest,  but  they  spelt  life  to  her  far  more  than  trees, 
and  flowers  and  little  blades  of  grass.  The  voice  of 
Nature  reminded  you  too  much  of  the  days  when  you 
were  a  silly  little  kid  and  believed  in  the  goodness 
of  the  world,  yourself  included,  and  of  heaps  of  things 
you  wanted  to  forget.  It  was  nicer  to  be  admired  than 
to  admire.  Most  women  were  like  that." 

When  he  asked  her  where  she  was  going  to,  she  hesi- 
tated. She  wondered  if  she  would  find  the  Home  dull, 
if  they  would  admit  her  in  her  excited  condition.  And 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      293 

he  suggested  she  should  stay  with  him.  They  went  to 
the  Maison  de  Joie.  Lydia  was  quite  right.  It  was 
not  a  nice  place.  Quite  the  worst  she  had  ever  been 
to.  And,  as  she  got  over  the  effects  of  the  absinthe  she 
had  drunk  and  realized  what  she  had  done,  she  had  a 
fit  of  weeping  and  depression.  It  made  him  angry. 
Finally  he  left  her.  And  she  didn't  want  anyone  to 
see  her.  That  was  why  she  ran  back. 

Lydia  was  annoyed.  She  realized  that  Zoe's  ardent 
love  for  pleasure  of  any  sort,  her  facility  for  feeling 
bored  as  soon  as  she  got  away  from  the  fascinations, 
such  as  they  were,  of  the  life  she  had  led  at  La  Cham- 
bre  Doree,  showed  plainly  enough  that  as  she  had  made 
her  bed  so  she  must  lie  on  it.  She  did  not  really  want 
to  keep  on  the  rails.  Would  run  off  them  at  the  very 
first  opportunity.  Lydia 's  own  eyesi  watered  as  she 
looked  into  the  girl's  flower-like  face  and  told  her  all 
this. 

"And  where  were  you  going  to,  when  you  saw  me?" 
she  ended. 

"I  don't  know — I  felt  too  wretched  to  think  of  any- 
thing but  getting  away.  I  had  a  chance  of  being  en- 
gaged there,  in  the  eafe — but  I  was  already  engaged  at 
'La  Chambre  Doree.'  I  pretended  I  wanted  to  go  to 
them.  I  don't  know  how  I  should  have  got  away  else. 
And — iafter  all,  I  didn't  care  so  very  much."  She 
shuddered  a  little  and  began  to  cry.  "You  see — I  knew 
it  was^no  good  my  going  to  the  Home — now.  This  is 
all  I'm  good  for,  after  all — I  should  always  come  back. 
Something  draws  me,  I  see  all  that's  hateful  and  low 
and  sordid,  but  I  shall  have  to  put  up  with  that.  If  I 
had  means  I  might  go  right  away  and  try  again.  Might 
get  in  with  the  kind  of  people  I  used  to  know,  and  for- 
get all  this — or  if  I  got  into  the  right  sort  of  place — 
with  nice,  kind  people  who 're  not  narrow  and — " 

Lydia  burst  out  laughing: 


294  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

"They'd  have  to  be  more  than  'not  narrow'  if  they 
ever  heard  the  truth  about  you.  Just  think  back,  what 
would  your  mother  have  said  if  a  girl  with  your  present 
experiences  had  wanted  to  be  your  friend?  And  your 
mother  stands  for  the  bulk  of  our  nation.  Do  you  know 
what  they  say  in  these  parts? — That  English  girls  are 
the  easiest  prey,  because  they've  been  brought  up  so 
prudishly  that  they'll  believe  anything  until  it's  too 
late  to  save  them.  And  it's  true — I'm  one  example, 
though,  bless  me,  there  isn't  much  I  don't  know  now — 
but  I  stand  for  the  middle-class  type,  my  father  was  a 
city  clerk.  And  you  for  the  other.  Our  parents  have 
a  lot  to  answer  for.  No — I  see  you  can't  go  back,  I 
was  mad  enough  to  think  you  could — because  I  hoped 
he'd  marry  you." 

"There's  no  fear  of  that!"  exclaimed  Zoe.  "He's 
too  selfish,  for  one  thing — for  another,  I  believe  he'd 
bore  me  so  in  time  that  I'd  have  to  run  away,  even 
then." 

Lydia  looked  thoughtful.  As  she  had  surmised,  Zoe 
did  not  leave  Fontainebleau  entirely  for  Roy's  sake. 
The  poison  had  eaten  too  far  into  her  system  for  her 
to  be  purged  of  it. 

"Listen,"  she  said.  "Marriage  is  your  only  way 
back  now — -there's  just  that  chance." 

"Pooh!  That's  a  rotten  idea.  I  should  want  to 
change  husbands  every  six  months.  Men  are  awfully 
boring  after  a  month  or  two.  So  my  only  chance  isn't 
that,  dear  Lydia." 

"Well,  it  isn't  employment.  You'd  soon  get  kicked 
out  of  that.  For  your  past  would  be  sure  to  crop 
up  to  ruin  you  again.  It's  no  good.  You've  gone  too 
far.  The  very  ones  that  seem  to  want  to  help  you  are 
the  very  ones  to  push  you  into  the  gutter  again.  They 
must  tell  others  about  you,  and  that's  enough.  Look 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      295 

at  what  your  Mr.  Hales  did — put  you  in  prison  almost. 
No  pleasure  because  you've  had  enough.  No  society, 
because  you're  not  yet  fit  to  mix  with  decent  people 
— to  be  trusted  with  the  young.  It's  like  taking  every 
drop  of  drink  from  a  drunkard  they  want  to  cure — every 
scrap  of  food  from  another  who  ate  too  much  the  day 
before  yesterday.  It's  too  late.  I  see  it  now — you 
can't  go  back  to  where  you  belong — I  was  a  fool  to 
think  it." 

"Good,"  laughed  Zoe.  "A  short  life  and  a  merry 
one,  eh?  Let's  drink  to  it,  and  I'll  pay.  Oh,  I  wasn't 
such  a  fool  as  to  leave  my  purse  behind.  Hadn't  I  a 
right  to  it?  I've  done  with  prim  old  tea-parties,  and 
psalm-singing  Marias  and  parsons,  and  the  damned  lot. 
Better  an  outcast  amongst  outcasts  than  a  pariah 
amongst  the  righteous.  Hurrah!  Gargon?"  she  beck- 
oned the  waiter  and  gave  her  order. 

"Gosh!  You're  a  nut!"  laughed  Lydia.  "But 
doesn't  it  bear  out  what  I  said?  When  a  lady  sinks 
she  goes  right  down  to  the  bottom." 

"A  short  life  and  a  merry  one!"  cried  Zoe,  as  the 
waiter  poured  out  the  foaming  wine.  "Here,  mon 
vieux,  drink  with  us  for  luck.  And  you,  Monsieur?" 

She  turned  to  a  man  who  had  just  sat  down  at  the 
next  table —  He  was  a  tall,  lugubrious-looking  student. 
He  shook  his  head. 

"Why  not?"  asked  Lydia. 

"I've  just  been  to  the  funeral  of  a  comrade.  I  don't 
feel  inclined  for  mirth.  It's  that  that  killed  him — too 
much  pleasure,  too  much  drink." 

"And  we,  too,  have  been  to  a  funeral,"  said  Zoe. 
"But  it  makes  us  happy!" 

It  was  whilst  she  was  in  this  reckless  mood  that  Zoe 
wrote  to  Keith.  She  never  quite  knew  what  she  said, 


296  THE  LURE  OP  THE  FLAME 

but  she  certainly  gave  him  to  understand  that  she  was 
tired  of  the  forest,  and  told  about  her  manner  of  com- 
ing to  Paris. 

" That '11  prevent  his  wanting  me  to  go  back,"  she 
commented,  as  she  sealed  the  letter.  Though  in  her 
heart  she  was  already  hoping  he  would  arrive  post- 
haste and  insist  on  carrying  her  away;  perhaps  bring 
Sir  Jasper  who  would  fall  in  love  with  her  charms  and 
consent  to  their  marriage.  For,  in  spite  of  what  she 
had  said  to  Lydia,  she  felt  that  marriage  might  indeed 
be  her  rock  of  refuge  and  salvation.  Received  as  Roy's 
wife,  she  would  be  far  enough  removed  from  her  old 
haunts  of  pleasure  never  to  regret  them — would  have 
sufficient  money  to  indulge  in  all  the  gayeties  natural 
to  her  position,  the  varied  and  innocent  dissipations  of 
society. 

With  that  idea  in  her  mind  she  suddenly  refused 
to  go  anywhere  Lydia  suggested.  She  had  taken  a  room 
next  to  her  friend's  and  fetched  her  boxes  in  a  taxi- 
cab.  Then  she  sat  down  and  waited. 

"What's  the  matter  now?"  asked  Lydia.  "This 
morning  you  were  drinking  to  a  merry  life,  to-night  you 
look  as  glum  as  that  fool  of  a  student  who  wouldn't 
drink  with  us — " 

"This  morning  I  was  drunk — now  I'm  sober,"  said 
Zoe.  "And  I  wish  I  were  dead!" 

It  was  the  struggle  of  the  good  left  in  her  which 
spoke  now;  as  she  said,  she  was  sober — and  memories 
were  no  longer  stupefied. 

Yet  when  Lydia  had  gone  and  she  had  wept  her  heart 
out  as  she  had  done  so  often  of  late — her  mood  changed 
again.  She  must  kill  these  voices  in  her,  but  how? 
Morphia — absinthe — brandy — it  didn't  matter  which,  so 
long  as  she  forgot  to  think  of  the  past,  to  recall  what 
might  have  been.  Roy,  her  last  chance,  wasn't  coming. 
He  had  thrown  her  over.  She  might  just  as  well  drown 


THE  LUBE  OP  THE  FLAME      297 

altogether,  instead  of  struggling  feebly  in  the  hope  of 
being  saved. 

The  next  day  her  head  was  so  bad  that  she  stayed 
in  bed.  Three  days  later  she  went  back  to  "  La  Chambre 
Doree."  She  might  just  as  well  go  there  as  anywhere, 
she  told  Lydia,  who  agreed. 

"Ah,  quel  bonheur!"  ejaculated  Madame.  "You're 
the  very  one  I  wanted —  Tell  me.  Have  you  come  back 
for  good?" 

"Forever,  I  suppose,"  said  Zoe. 

The  old  woman's  wicked  eyes  danced  with  glee. 

"Comment  done?     What  of  your  milord?" 

"II  m'embetait  a  mourir!"  ejaculated  Zoe,  with  an 
expressive  gesture.  "But  all  the  same,  I  sign  no  con- 
tract." 

"Nenni,  ma  mie,"  laughed  Madame.  "But  you'll  do 
what  I  want?" 

"What  is  it?" 

"A  new  item  for  the  programme.  An  allegorical  car. 
It  will  go  round  the  room,  see  you?  The  Maison  de 
Joie  has  one" — Zoe  shuddered.  She  had  seen  it.  "But 
mine  will  be  better,"  said  the  old  hag,  quick  to  notice 
the  girl's  disgust.  "Only  the  prettiest  and  youngest 
girls.  God  knows  what  old  creatures  they  have,  or 
what  it's  meant  to  be.  Aphrodite  rising  from  the  Sea 
is  my  idea.  The  shell,  with  Aphrodite  rising  gradually, 
in  the  middle  of  the  car,  and  nymphs  around." 

"You  want  me  to  be  a  nymph?"  asked  Zoe,  her  mind 
circling  back  to  those  far-off  days  when  she  had  so 
longed  to  be  seen  in  tights. 

"Nenni.  I  want  you  for  Aphrodite.  Only  yester- 
day I  said  what  a  pity  we  have  not  Zoe — with  her  fig- 
ure, her  hair,  her — well,  what  do  you  think?" 

"I  may  as  well  do  that  as  anything,"  said  Zoe  care- 
lessly. "Let's  drink  to  the  success  of  the  car,  ma 
vieille!" 


298  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

After  all,  it  wasn't  much  worse  than  dancing  as  Dar- 
dino  did,  as  she  had  done.  Flesh  silk  tights,  billowy 
clouds  of  chiffon,  her  long  hair  loose.  Her  eyes  spar- 
kled at  the  thought.  There  would  be  plenty  of  peo- 
ple to  see  how  nice  she  looked  this  time.  Especially 
as  the  car  was  to  stop  during  its  progress  and  she  was 
to  execute  a  dance — sing  a  song — in  a  word,  be  as  much 
in  the  limelight  as  she  had  ever  longed  to  be.  Her 
heart  leapt.  This  might  lead  to  the  legitimate  stage — • 
it  might! 

She  forgot  all  about  Roy  in  her  excitement  during 
the  next  few  days  whilst  the  arrangements  for  the  car 
were  being  made.  She  surprised  Lydia  by  her  delight 
in  what  would  only  be  a  very  tawdry  affair,  not  to  say 
a  shamelessly  indecent  one. 

"Give  it  up,"  she  said.  "You'll  hate  yourself 
after—" 

"Why  should  I?  People  look  at  my  face — my  figure 
is  just  as  good.  If  I  were  an  artist's  model — 

"That's  different.  If  you  want  to  appear  'au 
naturel'  before  the  eyes  of  the  public — go  to  an  artist 
and  sit  for  a  picture — " 

"I'll  do  both,"  said  Zoe  playfully.  "That's  quite 
an  idea.  Why  didn't  you  think  of  that  before?  You 
don't  want  references  for  studios — what  a  pity  I  hadn't 
suggested  it  to  Mr.  Hales!" 

Some  hours  later,  when  La  Chambre  Doree  was  al- 
most full,  Lydia,  who  was  sipping  wine  with  a  young 
soldier,  saw  Roy  Keith  suddenly  appear  at  the  next 
table.  He  was  accompanied  by  an  older  man,  whom 
she  supposed  was  Mr.  Hales.  They  were  looking  anx- 
iously round  the  room.  Of  course  she  knew  they 
wanted  Zoe,  and  when  Keith's  eyes  met  hers,  with  a 
start  of  recognition,  she  leaned  towards  him,  saying: 

"What  a  stranger  you  are,  Mr.  Keith!  I  believe 
you'd  forgotten  me." 


THE  LUEE  OF  THE  FLAME      299 

"I  didn't  see  you  at  first.  I'm  jolly  glad  to,  though. 
I  daresay  you  guess  why  I'm  here?" 

"Zoe?" 

"Yes — my  friend,  Mr.  Hales,  and  I  have  just  been 
to  her  lodgings.  They  said  she  was  here — but  I  don't 
see  her." 

"She'll  be  here  presently,"  said  Lydia.  "But  I 
don't  think  you'll  get  her  to  speak  to  you,  Mr.  Keith. 
She  isn't  in  the  right  moon  for  it.  She's  discovered 
that  the  world's  a  very  horrible  place  for  moneyless, 
friendless  girls  like  her — she's  very  bitter.  I  hardly 
understand  her  myself.  I'm  sure  you  don't — nor  Mr. 
Hales." 

"No — "  assented  Hales,  "I'm  afraid  I've  made  many 
mistakes  regarding  Zoe.  This  last — has  been  a  terrible 
lesson.  I  went  to  her  thinking  I  was  acting  for  the 
best — but — when  I  returned  next  day  and  found  her 
gone,  no  clew  at  the  station,  nor  where  the  carrier  had 
left  her  luggage,  I  couldn't  forgive  myself — I — '" 

"It  would  have  happened  anyhow,"  said  Lydia. 
"She  was  bored." 

"Bored!"  ejaculated  Roy. 

"Yes,  bored —  That's  at  the  bottom  of  most  of  her 
wrongdoing.  That,  and  ignorance.  You're  a  parson, 
Mr.  Hales,  I  understand.  Well,  then,  if  you  really 
want  to  do  good,  to  crush  a  crying  evil  in  our  land — 
preach  the  abolition  of  false  prudery.  You'll  save  hun- 
dreds of  young  girls  from  a  fate  like  Zoe's.  You  can't 
save  her — now." 

"Why  not?—    Surely,  surely—" 

"You're  a  man  of  the  world — eo  you  need  no  telling. 
Even  if  Mr.  Keith  has  come  to  take  her  away  and  marry 
her,  it's  too  late.  Zoe  is  lost — she's  chained  body  and 
soul  to  the  lure  of  this  sort  of  life —  You  doubt  me? 
Wait  and  see.  I  don't  think  you'll  believe  you  can 
do  her  any  good  then." 


300  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

"But,"  stammered  Roy — "she  loved  me — " 

"Do  you  mean  to  marry  her,  Mr.  Keith?" 

"N-o—    I  can't  do  that— but— " 

"And  all  you  want  to  offer  her  now  is — what?" 

"Mr.  Hales  can  find  her  a  home." 

"Where  she'd  be  a  fish  out  of  water — pointed  at — 
suspected — [watched — no,  Zoe's  not  for  that.  I  tried  to 
save  her  from  this.  You  may  look  astonished.  But  I'm 
not  like  Zoe,  though  my  folks  are  probably  just  as  trou- 
bled about  me — but,  look — " 

A  huge  car  drawn  by  a  couple  of  half-starved  horses 
had  appeared  through  the  folding  doors  at  the  end 
of  the  room.  Roy's  face  went  white  to  the  lips  as  he 
looked.  As  for  Hales,  he  sank  back  on  his  chair — a 
prey  to  intense  remorse  and  misery. 

For,  as  Lydia  had  expected,  it  was  a  revolting  ex- 
hibition— though  Zoe  stood  there  in  the  center — looking 
like  a  beautiful  pink  marble  statue.  Revolting,  because 
of  the  positions  of  the  nymphs,  their  painted  faces,  their 
amused  laughter  as  the  audience  flung  their  jokes  and 
remarks  first  at  one  and  then  at  the  other. 

As  for  Zoe,  her  eyes  had  fallen  on  the  little  group 
round  Lydia 's  table — and  a  hot  blush  suffused  her  from 
head  to  foot.  The  next  moment,  however,  she  had 
joined  in  the  laughter  and,  skipping  lightly  out  of  her 
shell,  began  to  dance.  She  had  never  thrown  such 
abandon  into  her  dancing  before — such  affrontery  and 
wickedness. 

Was  Hales  pleased  with  her  for  shocking  Keith,  she 
wondered,  as  she  sent  her  long  glances  towards  the 
friends.  Didn't  he  see  she  was  keeping  her  promise  to 
set  him  free — or  would  he  like  more?  She  felt  a  dif- 
ferent person  to  Zoe  Dereham — even  to  the  Zoe  of  lat- 
ter days.  It  was  as  though  a  thousand  devils  pos- 
sessed her,  and  when  the  audience  applauded  her  up- 
roariously she  blew  them  kisses  and  smiled  alluringly. 


THE  LURE  OP  THE  FLAME      301 

"Before  I  sing  my  song,"  she  announced,  "I'll  tell 
you  a  story  about  two  lovers  in  a  forest.  Oh,  la 
la,  it's  enough  to  make  you  yawn  to  hear  about  those 
two — and  all  they  did  and  said.  But  it's  true,  and  as 
dull  as  truth  is  generally  said  to  be.  Then  because  he 
was  bored,  although  he  said  he  adored  her,  he  must  go 
to  Paris  to  see  his — uncle,  shall  we  say?  It  sounds  bet- 
ter, hein?  And  he  left  his  forlorn  love  all  alone  in 
her  casket,  in  the  heart  of  the  big  forest.  For  she's 
mine,  he  said — no  one  else  shall  look  at  her,  she  wants 
no  one  but  me — but  she  got  bored,  too,  and — what  do 
you  think,  hein?  She  ran  off  to  see  her — aunt,  shall 
we  say?  It  sounds  better,  n'est-ce  pas?" 

She  bowed  smilingly  to  the  audience,  and  started  her 
song.  But  her  quick  eyes  had  seen  Roy's  angry  face  as 
he  turned  to  Hales  first,  and  then  rose  and  elbowed  his 
way  through  the  dense  crowd.  With  a  wicked  smile 
she  blew  him  a  kiss,  as  he  glared  up  at  her  from  the 
door. 

"You  see,"  said  Lydia,  turning  to  Hales  who  had 
not  moved.  "She  isn't  in  the  mood  to  listen  to  any- 
one. I  daresay  she's  suffering — our  hearts  don't 
harden  entirely  all  at  once.  But  she  insulted  him  pur- 
posely. ' ' 

"All  the  same,  I  must  speak  to  her — for  my  own  sat- 
isfaction. Can  you  manage  it  presently?" 

"When  she's  changed  she  shall  come  to  you — but  I'm 
sure  it's  no  good." 

She  rose  and  followed  the  procession  as  it  wended  its 
way  back  to  the  large  doors. 

A  few  minutes  later  she  came  back  with  Zoe  in  an 
elaborate  evening  gown,  her  bright  eyes  like  diamonds, 
her  face  full  of  determination. 

"Well,"  she  asked.  "How  did  you  like  the  show? 
Grand,  wasn't  it?  I'm  sorry  Roy  didn't  wait  for  the 
end." 


302  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

"Zoe,  is  it  no  good  asking  you  to  give  it  up — to — " 

"Do  you  realize  I'm  earning  good  money — " 

"Bad  money,  my  child.  Money  that  will  bring 
you—" 

"Oh,  stop  that.  I  don't  want  cant.  What  right 
have  you  to  interfere?  Haven't  you  done  enough  harm 
— yes,  from  the  very  first  you've  done  it.  You  began 
at  Sainte  Croix — and — " 

"That  being  so,  let  me  make  amends.  Give  up  this 
life  altogether  and — " 

"Marry  you,  perhaps?"  she  sneered. 

He  glanced  at  her  reproachfully. 

"If  you  had  an  assured  income  which  would  enable 
you  to  do  as  you  wish,  would  you  give  this  life  up  for 
good—?" 

She  hesitated.  Her  eyes  softened  for  a  second, 
searched  his  face  and  hardened. 

"No — "  she  said — "It's  no  good  my  saying  yes.  For 
I  shouldn't  keep  my  word.  I  can't  give  up  this  life 
— it  would  drag  me  back  from  the  end  of  the  world. 
I  loathe  what's  bad  in  it,  but  I'm  tied  to  it  forever — 
so  there.  And  if  you  really  want  to  be  kind  to  me, 
you'll  leave  me  alone — good-by." 

She  turned  away  quickly  and  walked  up  the  room. 
Her  face  was  wreathed  in  smiles,  but  her  heart  was 
like  lead  within  her. 


CHAPTEE  XXIV 

HOW  much  the  chronicler  of  Zoe's  story  had  hoped 
against  hope  that,  in  the  records  given  him,  he 
would  find  her  better  self  prevailed  at  the  end,  he  hardly 
knew  until  the  moment  of  disillusion  came. 

In  fiction  such  a  heroine  would  have  been  snatched 
from  the  jaws  of  worse  than  death,  and  ended  as  most 
heroines  do.  But,  alas !  Such  was  not  Zoe  's  case.  Nor 
is  it  that  of  most  of  the  women  who  go  gayly  down  the 
broad  path  of  pleasure,  forgetting  that, 

"Evil  is  wrought  for  want  of  thought, 
As  well  as  want  of  heart." 

Such  a  pitiful  story!  So  many  lost  opportunities,  so 
much  misery,  just  for  the  lack  of  a  little  knowledge  and 
loving  guidance. 

Zoe  was  a  great  deal  more  attractive,  and  lovable, 
than  many  of  the  sweet  English  girls  who  go  out  into 
the  battle  line  and  conquer.  But,  although  in  real  life 
virtue  is  not  always  rewarded  and  the  guilty  often 
prosper, — circumstances  overwhelmed  her  relentlessly, 
sweeping  her  into  the  vortex  of  sin,  misery,  and  regret, 
until  what  good  was  in  her  had  been  swamped  and 
practically  destroyed. 

Although  Hales  never  quite  forgave  himself  for  not 
managing  better  at  Fontainebleau,  it  is  more  than  prob- 
able that  she  would  have  gone  away  just  the  same. 
There  is  plenty  of  truth  in  the  old  adage  that  Satan 
finds  plenty  of  work  to  do  for  idle  hands. 

Yet,  changeable  as  ever — she  saw  Hales  leave  the 
cafe  with  reluctance.  She  longed  to  spring  after  him 
and  beg  him  to  take  her  away — anywhere  but  here,  into 

303 


304  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

a  convent  if  he  liked.  But  the  door  had  hardly  closed 
behind  him  when  she  was  laughing  immoderately,  and 
clicking  glasses  with  a  couple  of  rowdy  students. 

"A  short  life  and  a  merry  one!"  she  chanted,  her 
voice  rising  above  theirs.  She  avoided  Lydia  entirely 
that  night.  In  fact,  the  friendship  between  the  two  was 
strained.  For  the  sight  of  Lydia  who  had  known  so 
much  about  her  past,  became  suddenly  distasteful  to 
Zoe,  who  wanted  to  forget  everything  and  drank  heav- 
ily to  that  end.  Lydia 's  own  affairs  were  troubling  her 
just  then,  and,  low  as  she  had  sunk  herself,  she  was 
a  little  disgusted  to  see  how  easily  Zoe  went  the  pace. 
Her  dances  were  enough  to  make  many  of  the  onlookers 
blush.  Her  songs,  her  glad-eye  smiles,  her  ready  jests, 
bore  no  trace  of  compunction  or  shame.  She  had  no 
sense  of  modesty  left.  Though  she  still  looked  like  a 
flower,  she  had  become  a  rank  weed,  as  degraded  as  the 
vilest  woman  there.  And  the  depths  to  which  such 
women  can  go  are  fathomless. 

Lydia  was  unable  to  watch  her  as  she  had  done,  and 
did  not  realize  that  the  Zoe  she  had  learnt  to  love  had 
given  place  to  a  half-demented  girl  who  was  so  under 
the  influence  of  drugs  and  alcohol  that  she  neither  knew 
nor  cared  what  she  did.  And  she  emerged  hardened 
and  embittered  from  that  period  of  nightmare.  But 
traces  of  her  suffering  lurked  in  her  eyes,  were  writ- 
ten round  her  mouth.  She  was  glad  to  hear  that  Lydia 
was  going  away,  and  hoped,  with  all  her  heart,  that 
she  would  never  again  see  anyone  she  had  known  in 
the  old  life. 

She  never  heard  what  Roy  had  said  about  her  flight, 
never  knew  his  object  in  coming  to  the  cafe.  She  had 
disgusted  him  as  she  intended  doing.  She  supposed 
she  had  killed  his  love.  She  heard  once  or  twice  from 
Hales,  begging  her  to  reconsider  her  decision,  and,  al- 
though she  wept  over  the  letters  as  she  read  them,  in- 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      305 

variably  ended  up  in  drinking  to  the  short  and  merry 
life  she  was  convinced  she  preferred,  and  wondering 
how  many  new  conquests  she  would  make  that  night. 

About  two  years  later,  Hales,  passing  through  Paris 
for  his  annual  holiday,  sought  her  out  to  again  make 
his  offer  of  an  assured  income,  and  untrammeled  free- 
dom, if  she  would  leave  the  life  she  was  leading.  Al- 
though she  was  no  longer  performing  at  La  Chambre 
Doree,  owing  to  recent  illness,  he  found  her  at  another 
well-known  haunt  in  Montmartre.  He  was  shocked  at 
the  change  in  her,  and  asked  her  anxiously  if  she 
still  felt  ill. 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  with  a  laugh. 

"Why?  Do  I  look  so  passee?  If  so,  it's  a  bad  look- 
out for  me.  But  you  needn't  worry.  I  have  been  ill — 
Never  mind  what  it  was,  it's  only  what  one  has  to  ex- 
pect here: 

*  Apres  le  plaisir  la  peine, 
Apres  la  peine.    Eh  bien,  la  Seine!' 

The  last  words  are  mine.  The  real  ones  are,  Apres  la 
piene,  la  vertu' —  But  of  course  I'm  not  such  a  fool  as 
to  believe  that.  If  Roy  had  married  me,  it  would  have 
been  true — though  I'm  jolly  thankful  he  didn't.  He's 
a  bit  of  stick,  our  beau  gargon,  hein.  Tell  me,  what's 
become  of  him?" 

Roy  was  married.    To  the  "bloated"  grocer's  daugh- 
ter?   Yes.    They  were  very  happy.    "Was  she  pretty? 
Had  she  a  lovely  figure?    Hales  shook  his  head  as  his 
eyes  ran  over  the  eager  face  uplifted  to  his.     She  was 
short  and  stout  and  very  red — 
1 ' Splendid ! ' '  cried  Zoe.    "  I'm  glad,  I 'm  glad. ' ' 
Hales  told  that  they  had  a  son.    In  fact,  Keith  was 
behaving  exactly  as  Sir  Jasper  had  wished.     He  was 
proud  of  his  heir  and  most  generous  to  him. 


306  THE  LURE  OP  THE  FLAME 

"Poor  old  Roy,"  she  said.  "It's  a  good  thing  I  gave 
him  up.  But  he  soon  forgot  me,  didn't  he?  Let's 
drink  to  the  kid 's  health. ' ' 

Hales  pulled  her  glass  towards  him  and  looked  into 
her  eyes.  She  started  back,  unflinchingly,  then,  color- 
ing a  little,  pushed  his  hand  away  and  snatched  it 
back. 

"It's  no  good,  mon  vieux!  I'm  not  one  of  the  souls 
you  can  save.  Charity  begins  at  home,  so  go  back  to 
your  slums.  I'm  quite  happy,  thank  you.  Happier 
than  if  I'd  stayed  at  Edgeware  or  gone  on  teaching 
Fanny  Broome-Taylors  all  my  life.  I  know  a  thing  or 
two,  see?  My  Alphonse  is  good  enough  when  he's  so- 
ber, when  he  isn't — well,  all  women  have  to  put  up 
with  something  from  their  men.  Ore  nom  de  nom! 
Roy  gave  me  boredom  enough —  Alphonse  knocks  me 
about  and  I  scratch  back.  Roy  probably  preaches  and 
the  grocer's  daughter  nags.  Or  he  acts  just  as  cru- 
elly by  neglecting  her,  or  trotting  after  other  women. 
Give  him  my  love,  and — ah,  here's  Alphonse.  Come, 
and  be  introduced." 

Hales  bowed  gravely  to  the  collarless,  unshaven  man 
with  fiery  eyes  and  a  murderous  mile.  That  Zoe  should 
have  sunk  to  this ! 

"Jules  succeeded  Roy,  and  Silvio  succeeded  Jules,  un- 
til Pierre  arrived, ' '  went  on  Zoe,  her  eyes  gleaming  with 
wicked  mirth.  "Then  Alphonse  punched  his  head,  and 
as  the  prize  goes  to  the  winner,  here  we  are ! —  If  any- 
one looks  at  me  Alphonse  will  willingly  repeat  the  per- 
formance, eh,  cheri?" 

Alphonse  nodded,  and  glared  at  Hales,  who,  after  a 
somewhat  one-sided  conversation,  for  the  man  was  too 
sulky  to  say  much,  got  up  and  went,  his  heart  full  of 
a  great  pity  for  which  he  saw  no  relief. 

Zoe's  laugh  followed  him  to  the  door.  But  there 
were  more  tears  than  mirth  in  the  sound,  and — had  he 


307 

known — she  really  laughed  at  Alphonse,  who  swung 
away  with  an  angry  threat. 

Then  suddenly  Zoe  started  up,  her  face  freezing  into 
gravity.  For  her  eyes  had  fallen  on  the  frightened 
face  of  a  young  girl,  who  sat  crouching  in  her  corner, 
her  big  eyes  wandering  miserably  around  the  crowded 
room. 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  asked  Zoe  in  English, 
as  she  came  up  to  her  and  sat  down.  For  she  had 
guessed  the  child's  nationality.  "Don't  you  know  this 
is  a  bad  place,  in  the  worst  part  of  Paris.  Hush,  don't 
cry — tell  me  quickly — and  I'll  help  you." 

"It's  no  good.  I  can't  get  away.  Madame  has  my 
money — and  now — I  couldn't — I  couldn't  face  them  at 
home. ' ' 

"That's  nothing  to  what  you'll  have  to  face  if  you 
stay.  Look  at  me — I  was  like  you  once — now — I'm, 
what  you'll  be  if  you  stay.  I  can't  get  away  because 
part  of  me  doesn't  want  to.  But  you — how  did  you 
come  at  all?" 

The  girl  poured  out  a  story  of  kidnapping  and  trick- 
ery, such  as  Zoe  had  heard  of  from  similar  victims. 
And  her  heart  yearned  over  the  girl  who  had  so  sud- 
denly touched  what  good  was  left  in  her.  If  only  Hales 
had  stayed!  If  only  she  could  get  him  to  come  back. 

"I'm  going  to  save  you,"  she  said,  "if  you  behave 
sensibly.  Wait  here — until  I  come  back.  If  Madame 
tells  you  to  move  about,  and  speak  to  anyone,  do  so  for 
all  you're  worth,  but  don't  leave  the  room — promise — " 

"If  I  dare—" 

"You  must.  It's  a  matter  of  your  life  or  death, 
though  your  body  may  live  on  for  years.  God  knows 
I  'm  not  exaggerating ! ' ' 

She  hurried  out  into  the  street.  Only  a  few  minutes 
had  passed  since  Hales  left,  but  the  probabilities  were 
that  she  would  never  catch  him  up.  But  as  she  turned 


308  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

into  the  Place  Pigalle,  she  saw  his  tall  figure  halting  on 
the  curb  and  made  a  dart  for  him. 

"Mr.  Hales,"  she  panted— " Stop !" 

He  heard  her  at  once  and  turned,  his  face  radiant 
with  surprise: 

' '  Zoe !—    Ah,  my  dear  child. ' ' 

''Keep  that  nonsense  for  someone  who  deserves  it," 
she  retorted.  "I'm  not  a  repentant  sheep — but  I've 
found  one  for  your  flock.  Get  that  taxi  and  come.  I'll 
tell  you  as  we  go.  The  child's  quite  young,  wretched, 
heart-broken.  You'll  save  her — she  isn't  as  depraved 
as  I  was." 

She  jumped  into  the  vehicle  as  she  spoke,  giving 
directions  for  the  man  to  stop  some  yards  from  the 
cafe,  and  then  she  hurriedly  told  what  she  knew,  sug- 
gesting Hales  should  take  the  girl  to  the  English  Home 
and  send  the  police  next  day  for  her  things. 

"Of  course  I  may  be  killed  if  they  suspect  me — but — 
luckily  I'm  such  a  bad  lot  that  they'll  suspect  every- 
one else  but  me.  You're  to  come  back  and  talk  to  the 
girl.  Then  you  must  suggest  taking  her  out — look 
wicked  for  once,  O  saint.  And,  thank  goodness,  you 
aren't  dressed  in  parson's  clothes  or  they'd  smell  a 
rat! — here  we  are." 

He  followed  her  into  the  room. 

"There  she  is,"  she  whispered — "over  there.  Only 
don 't  go  yet.  Sit  down  with  me  again,  and  we  '11  beckon 
her.  Then  I'll  go.  And  a  thousand  thanks.  Though 
the  life  holds  me,  I  don't  want  that  kid  victimized,  if 
we  can  prevent  it." 

Her  plan  worked  so  easily  that  ten  minutes  later 
Hales  and  the  girl  had  left  the  room  and  Madame  was 
telling  Zoe  excitedly  that  the  child  was  the  most  pig- 
headed little  wretch  she  had  ever  had  anything  to  do 
with — but,  thanks  to  Zoe's  friend,  she  had,  at  last,  come 
to  her  senses. 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      309 

"Yes,  you  may  be  sure  of  that!  He's  a  gay  dog, 
my  friend!"  laughed  Zoe,  a  dull  ache  in  her  heart. 
"Let's  drink  to  her  success!" 

But  Alphonse  was  in  a  fury  of  jealousy  with  Zoe 
for  talking  to  Hales  again,  and  it  was  with  a  blackened 
eye  and  a  bruised  body  that  she  crept  out  of  her  sordid 
lodgings,  early  the  next  morning,  determined  to  have 
nothing  more  to  do  with  him.  At  the  same  time  the 
dull  ache  in  her  heart  had  given  way  to  a  feeling  of 
relief  not  unmixed  with  joy.  For  the  little  English 
girl's  escape  had  not  yet  been  discovered  and  she  felt 
sure  that  Hales  would  do  his  best  for  her. 

She  wandered  down  to  the  Embankment  and  looked 
longingly  at  the  Seine.  How  tired  she  was.  How  rest- 
ful she  would  be  there.  And  yet  the  thought  of  the 
child  she  had  saved  held  her  back.  What  if  she  tried 
to  save  others — to  send  word  into  the  thoughtless  world 
of  the  poor  children  she  saw  so  constantly  brought 
into  this  one  of  vice  and  sin.  For  herself  there  was 
no  other  place,  but  for  these  others — trapped  and  con- 
demned against  their  will — could  nothing  be  done  for 
them? 

She  turned  slowly  back  to  the  smiling  City,  so  gay, 
so  joyously  light-hearted,  yet,  like  a  beautiful  white 
rose  with  a  canker  in  its  heart,  indifferent  to  the  sore 
within  her  midst. 

She  had  not  gone  far  when  she  realized  how  hungry 
she  was,  and  remembered  she  had  not  touched  food  for 
hours.  She  paused,  wondering  where  she  should  go  to, 
and  at  that  moment  a  motor  stopped  beside  her,  and  a 
handsome,  dark-eyed,  brown-skinned  man  looked  down 
at  her. 

' '  Tiens,  voila  Zoe ! "  he  chanted,  his  very  red  lips  curl- 
ing back  from  his  white  teeth,  which,  with  a  fierce-look- 
ing mustache,  gave  him  a  somewhat  wolfish  expression. 

"Gaston!"  she  ejaculated,  taking  in  his  neat  clothes, 


310      .         THE  LUKE  OF  THE  FLAME 

the  splendid  motor-car.  "Have  you  come  into  a  for- 
tune, mon  gars?" 

"If  I  say  yes,  ma  belle,  will  you  help  me  to  spend 
it?" 

"I— don't  know." 

"I  asked  you  long  ago,  when  you  had  a  fine  milord 
hanging  about  you — when  you  were  less  moth-eaten 
than  you  seem  now.  Who 's  the  beast  who 's  been  knock- 
ing my  beauty  about?  But  I  know  you  won't  tell. 
"Women  are  such  fools,  and  yet — fascinating  devils  when 
they're  like  you,  Zoe.  Are  you  coming?  I'm  off  to 
London  in  the  morning,  to-night  if  possible.  Will  you 
come?" 

She  hesitated.  She  had  meant  never  to  see  London 
again.  And  yet  the  very  sound  of  its  name  pulled  at 
her  heart-strings.  Moreover,  Gaston  looked  prosperous, 
and  was  generous  when  he  had  money.  She  had  done 
with  Alphonse.  It  was  a  fag  looking  round  for  fresh 
fields  to  conquer. 

"I'm  in  a  hurry,"  he  exclaimed,  glancing  about  anx- 
iously. "I've  borrowed  this  car  without  permission, 
and — "  he  winked  expressively. 

"Borrowed?  Oh  la,  la,  Gaston!  It  used  to  be  jew- 
elry! Will  it  get  to  aeroplanes  in  time?  N'importe! 
'I'm  off  to  Philadelphia  in  the  morning!'  ' 

She  jumped  in  beside  him  with  a  laugh.  He  hugged 
her  like  a  bear,  quite  indifferent  to  the  amusement  of 
the  passersby. 

"Montmartre  first,"  she  said,  as  she  extricated  her- 
self and  put  her  hat  straight.  "All  I  possess  is 
there—" 

"Except  your  heart!"  he  smirked. 

"My  heart!  Oh,  as  for  that,  I  make  you  a  present 
of  what's  left  of  it.  There  isn't  much,  so  you  needn't 
look  so  pleased.  But — you've  waited  a  long  time  for 
me,  O  faithful  one — and  such  is  fate,  that,  a  minute 


THE  LURE  OP  THE  FLAME      311 

or  two  later  you  might  have  been  too  late.     But  for  you 
.  it  would  have  been  f-i-fi;  n-i-ni  with  poor  Zoe. " 
i     She  said  it  really  to  see  the  look  of  consternation  on 
his  face,  to  feel  him  wiggle  closer  to  her  as  though 
to  make  sure  she  was  really  there.     For  she  knew  quite 
well  that  she  had  turned  her  back  on  the  river  before 
he  appeared  on  the  scene. 

And,  just  as  she  lied  for  no  apparent  reason,  so 
vanished  all  thought  of  the  girls  she  had  meant  to 
help — all  longing  to  end  her  life. 

She  was  once  more  the  careless  butterfly — her  wings 
a  little  dashed  by  the  storms  she  had  come  through, — 
but  the  same  light-hearted  creature  living  from  day  to 
day;  asking  for  nothing  but  warmth  and  sunshine. 

The  pity  of  it  was,  that,  almost  from  that  moment, 
her  life  became  drabber,  more  wretched.  For  she  dis- 
covered that  Gaston  was  a  hunted  man,  fleeing  from 
the  law.  She  knew  that  he  had  always  been  well  sup- 
plied with  money  and  that  it  came  to  him  far  more 
easily  than  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow  or  the  toil  of 
his  long-fingered  white  hands.  But  that  was  the  case 
with  so  many  of  her  admirers  that  she  had  ceased  to 
let  it  trouble  her,  and  readily  condoned,  since  it  meant 
plenty  in  the  land.  For  the  thief  is  seldom  mean.  He 
is  often  a  spendthrift,  ready  to  load  his  sweetheart  with 
presents,  to  squander  the  gold,  he  risked  his  life  to  get, 
on  mere  excitement  and  drink.  She  was,  however,  hor- 
rified by  the  discovery  that  he  was  one  of  the  members 
of  that  notorious  band  of  bandits,  which  had  been  ter- 
rorizing France  during  the  last  year  or  so.  But  she 
only  learnt  the  truth  the  day  after  they  reached  Lon- 
don when  an  article  in  a  newspaper  roused  her  suspi- 
cions. It  told  of  the  murder  of  an  old  man,  whose 
assassins  had  audaciously  escaped  in  his  motor-car  which 
had  not  yet  been  traced.  A  stray  word  or  two  had  con- 


312  THE  LURE  OP  THE  FLAME 

firmed  her  fears,  and,  added  to  her  horror,  was  her 
feeling  of  helplessness.  In  Paris,  she  might  have  left 
him,  despite  his  awful  threats.  But  in  London,  where 
she  was  afraid  of  meeting  people  she  had  known,  it 
seemed  impossible.  Besides,  he  had  money  and  she 
had  none. 

He  reminded  her  of  that,  after  he  had  described  the 
murder  in  all  its  grewsomeness.  He  was  as  proud  of 
his  share  in  it  as  though  he  had  done  something  noble; 
now  she  had  guessed  so  much,  he  enjoyed  telling  about 
it  and  the  "audacious  escape"  in  the  car,  which  he  had 
sold  quite  easily  in  Paris.  The  other  man  had  left  him 
at  a  railway  station  and  flown  to  Madrid.  They  had 
covered  up  their  traces  so  well  that  he  had  no  fear  of 
detection.  She  was  the  only  one  who  knew — and  he 
could  silence  her  at  any  moment  if  he  wished. 

He  looked  very  terrible  as  he  spoke  and  her  heart 
beat  with  fear,  although  she  laughed  and  ran  her  fin- 
gers through  his  dark  hair,  saying  that  there  was  no 
danger  of  her  betraying  him — why  should  shef 

"For  the  chief  reason  that  you  would  kill  the  goose 
which  lays  the  golden  eggs,  ma  belle,"  he  laughed,  kiss- 
ing her  so  fiercely  that  she  paled  and  thought  of  the 
poor  dead  man.  And  then  with  sudden  impulse  he 
suggested  taking  her  out  to  buy  a  hat — and  was  there 
anything  else  she  wanted?  He  was  in  the  mood  to 
spend,  she  would  do  well  to  take  advantage  of  it. 

They  had  taken  rooms  in  a  tall  old  house  in  Soho. 
They  were  tawdry  and  not  over-clean,  but  in  all  Lon- 
don it  was  the  quarter  where  they  would  feel  most  at 
home,  though  it  lacked  the  joie  de  vivre.  Of  course 
Zoe,  who  loved  comfort  like  a  cat,  would  have  liked 
nothing  better  than  an  expensive  hotel,  but  not  so  Gas- 
ton.  He  was  Bohemian  in  every  fiber  and  the  conven- 
tionalities of  hotel  life  irked  and  irritated  him.  What 
did  he  care  if  the  rooms  were  mean,  the  cafes  tawdry — 


THE  LUKE  OF  THE  FLAME  313 

he  had  been  used  to  them  all  his  life — money  was  use- 
ful for  other  things.  You  could  enjoy  everything  and 
go  everywhere  like  the  richest  on  the  earth,  if  you  didn  't 
mind  burrowing  into  holes  at  night.  Besides,  his  busi- 
ness kept  him  there, 

"What  business?"  asked  Zoe,  laughingly. 

"The  business  that  must  keep  us,"  he  replied  mys- 
teriously. "My  money  won't  last  forever — some  of  it 
I  cannot  touch  just  now.  I  must  make  more,  and  you 
are  just  the  one  to  help  me." 

"How?" 

He  consulted  a  letter  he  held  in  his  hand. 

"I  have  to  meet  the  daughter  of  a  rich  friend  at  Vic- 
toria. She's  coming  from  Paris — to  go  to  school  in  the 
North.  Will  you  do  that  for  me?" 

"What  am  I  to  do?    Put  her  in  another  train,  or — " 

"Meet  me  at  King's  Cross.  I'll  take  her  on  at  once. 
It's  a  bore,  but  one  must  do  something  for  one's 
friends.  I  may  be  glad  of  his  help  some  day.  Here's 
her  description" — he  handed  her  a  slip  of  paper. 
"Don't  look  like  that." 

It  was  on  the  tip  of  her  tongue  to  say  that  she  wasn't 
fit  to  speak  to  such  a  child — that  he  wasn't.  But  the 
look  in  his  eyes  puzzled  her.  Could  he  be  going  to 
murder  the  child?  Or — or — 

The  little  frightened  girl,  she  had  flung  into  Hales* 
arms  so  unceremoniously,  came  to  her  mind. 

"Very  well — I'll  meet  you  as  you  say.  What  time? 
All  right.  I'll  be  there — and  the  girl  with  me,  you 
bet!" 

She  swung  front  the  room,  her  heart  swelling  with 
indignation.  Now  she  knew  why  fate  had  brought  her 
to  him;  and  recalled  her  resolution  made  the  morning 
they  had  met.  She  had  forgotten  all  about  it,  until 
now.  Could  he  be  that  vile  thing  they  called  a  "pro- 
curer," a  trafficker  of  White  Slaves? 


314  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

Punctually  to  the  minute  Zoe  arrived  at  King's  Cross, 
and  found  Gaston  awaiting  her  near  the  entrance.  He 
came  to  meet  her  with  a  face  as  black  as  thunder,  and 
his  eyes  scanned  hers  incredulously  when  she  explained 
that  the  girl  had  not  turned  up. 

"Nom  de  Dieu  de  Dieu!"  he  murmured  angrily.  "If 
you  lie,  111  kill  you." 

She  met  his  eyes  with  calm  innocence.  "Why?"  she 
asked. 

"Why?  Because  we  shall  have  all  this  bother  and 
waste  of  time  again,  that's  why — ." 

"Perhaps  she's  changed  her  mind  and  isn't  coming 
at  all,"  smiled  Zoe. 

But  he  made  no  reply,  as  he  walked  sulkily  out  of 
the  station  and  hailed  a  taxicab.  She  knew  by  his  man- 
ner, and  his  rage,  that  she  had  not  been  mistaken,  nor 
done  anything  but  good  by  handing  the  girl  over  to  the 
station  representative  of  the  National  Vigilance  Society. 
But,  oh,  what  a  sickening  time  she  had  had !  How  tired 
she  was  of  acting  guardian  angel  to  a  silly  weeping  child. 
It  was  like  being  in  a  church  all  day— she  only  wished 
she  could  go  somewhere  and  forget  it  all.  She  felt 
quite  grateful  to  Gaston — whom  she  had  so  willfully 
deceived — when  he  stopped  the  cab  outside  a  well-known 
public  house,  saying  she  deserved  a  drink  for  under- 
taking such  a  thankless  task,  and  he,  too,  for  his  fruit- 
less wait.  But  he  eyed  her  narrowly  as  she  sipped  the 
sweet  and  nasty  champagne  he  ordered,  filling  her  glass 
again  and  again,  but  taking  very  little  himself.  Pres- 
ently she  noticed  that,  and  sprang  to  her  feet  exclaim- 
ing she  had  had  enough.  He  followed,  reminding  her 
that  she  had  forgotten  her  cognac;  wouldn't  she  go 
back  and  have  some — or  at  any  rate  some  more  wine. 
She  shook  her  head,  but  a  dull  resentment  crept  up  in 
her  heart  against  herself  for  doing  things  which  must 
put  her  on  her  guard.  After  all,  why  should 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      315 

she  trouble  about  others?  Had  anyone  done  so  for 
her? 

But  she  resisted  temptation  sufficiently  during  the 
next  few  days,  to  keep  her  secret,  although  Gaston 
watched  her  carefully  and  did  his  best  to  make  her 
drunk.  Fear  alone  made  her  abstain.  The  thought  of 
those  long  white  fingers  at  her  throat  haunted  her 
dreams,  and,  more  than  once,  she  started  up  in  a  cold 
perspiration,  crying  loudly  for  help,  to  snuggle  down 
a  minute  later  thankful  that  Gaston  was  not  there  to 
hear  or  surely  he  must  have  guessed  she  had  something 
on  her  mind. 

Then  she  began  to  wonder  why  Gaston  was  not  there, 
since  it  was  generally  in  the  early  hours  of  the  morn- 
ing that  this  nightmare  awakened  her.  And  once  it 
seemed  as  though  the  cry  she  uttered  was  prolonged 
by  another  voice,  followed  by  loud  screaming.  She  was 
so  sure  of  it  that  she  pattered  barefooted  across  the 
room,  and  opened  her  door. 

Yes — there  was  someone  screaming  in  the  house — and 
then  voices,  Gaston 's  for  one.  She  recalled  the  murder 
he  had  described  with  such  gusto,  and  flew  back — teeth 
chattering  loudly — to  the  safe  refuge  of  her  bed.  A 
moment  later  and  a  door  below  opened,  the  stairs 
creaked  and  Gaston  appeared.  Zoe,  quivering  beneath 
the  clothes,  pictured  his  face,  the  probable  state  of  his 
hands — the  hands  of  a  murderer — and  was  afraid  to 
breathe. 

She  did  not  sleep  again  that  night,  and,  although  she 
did  her  best  to  appear  indifferent  throughout  the  day, 
she  avoided  him  as  much  as  possible,  fearing  that  he 
might  notice  her  distress  and  question  her. 

What  had  he  done? —  She  was  almost  thankful  to 
hear  the  mysterious  sounds  again  the  next  night,  and 
the  next.  But  she  could  not  question  Madame  Castano, 
the  old  Italian  lodging-house  keeper,  for  she  was  hand 


316  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

in  glove  with  Gaston.  She  determined  to  watch  and 
find  out  for  herself. 

Meanwhile  her  looks  were  going  and  she  grew  thin- 
ner every  day.  Though  barely  twenty-one,  she  looked 
about  thirty,  and  noticed  with  despair  that  men  often 
passed  her  by  without  looking  at  her,  while  Gaston 
jeered  at  her  face  and  figure.  It  was  evident  that 
he  would  soon  grow  tired  of  her — was  so,  already,  per- 
haps. He  would  not  cast  her  aside,  nor  suffer  her  to 
go,  because  of  what  she  knew,  but  wasn't  he  capable 
of  doing  worse  ?  The  gnawing  horror  in  her  heart  grew 
and  grew,  showing  through  her  forced  gayety  and  at- 
tempts to  recapture  him. 

At  last  she  discovered  what  was  happening  in  the  room 
of  mystery — what  happened  in  various  others  up  and 
down  the  steep  flights  of  stairs.  She  knew  for  what 
purpose  the  house  was  made  to  look  as  attractive  as 
possible  on  the  ground  floor,  why  Madame  went  out  so 
beautifully  dressed  at  times,  although  she  Hooked  so 
slovenly  indoors.  She  realized  that  they  had  tried  to 
make  a  tool  of  her,  would  gradually — had  she  done 
what  Gaston  wished — have  initiated  her  into  their  plans. 
She  shuddered  at  the  thought,  wondering  how  long  they 
would  leave  her  alone,  how  long  she  would  be  able 
to  resist  them.  But  she  would,  she  would!  It  mat- 
tered little  what  she  did  with  her  own  soul,  but,  for 
the  sake  of  the  girl  she  might  have  been,  of  the  mother 
she  so  rarely  remembered,  she  would  not  help  to  send 
others  to  perdition. 

One  night  the  cries  were  so  pitiful  that  she  sprang 
out  of  bed,  and  without  realizing  the  danger  she  ran, 
or  waiting  to  put  anything  extra  on,  pattered  quickly 
down  the  stairs  to  the  door  she  had  tried  to  open  more 
than  once,  always  to  find  it  locked. 

She  had   just   reached  the   landing   when   the   cries 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      317 

ceased,  and  she  craned  eagerly  towards  the  door,  when 
it  was  flung  open  and  Gaston  came  out,  closely  followed 
by  Madame  Castano. 

He  stopped  with  an  oath  as  his  eyes  fell  on  Zoe's 
shrinking  figure.  She  had  seen  him  enraged,  more  than 
once,  but  never  quite  like  this,  as  though  about  to  spring 
on  her  and  tear  her  to  pieces  with  his  strong  teeth,  stab 
her  to  death  with  his  eyes  which  looked  like  drawn 
swords. 

"You!"  he  choked,  seizing  her  by  the  shoulders. 
"So  you  spy  on  me,  do  you?  You  lied  then,  the  other 
day?  I  knew  it!  I  knew  you  were  a  traitor.  But  I 
was  waiting,  for  my  revenge.  Now — I  have  it — I  have 
it— I  have  it—" 

He  shook  her  violently  until  her  teeth  chattered  and 
her  breath  came  sobbingly  between  them.  Madame 
Castano  seized  his  arm  and  he  loosened  her  so  suddenly 
that  she  staggered  back  against  the  wall,  a  frail  little 
figure  in  her  flimsy  nightgown,  her  long  hair  flowing. 
Standing  beside  him  Madame  Castano  watched  her  with 
gloating  eyes.  Through  the  open  door  behind  them  she 
caught  sight  of  a  girl's  startled  face.  And,  somehow, 
the  sight  of  it  gave  her  courage.  The  faint  voice  of 
good,  the  fearless  blood  of  her  ancestors,  stirred  within 
her  and,  throwing  back  her  head  defiantly,  she  ex- 
claimed : 

"Yes,  I  deceived  you — and  I'm  glad!  For  I  saved 
one  girl  from  your  clutches.  And  I'll  save  more — if  I 
can.  For  I  know  what  you  are  now.  I  know  what  this 
house  is —  And  I  mean  to  tell  every  girl  in  it,  that — in 
the  next  street  is  a  house  with  a  blue  lamp." 

She  had  raised  her  voice,  as  though  bent  on  its  reach- 
ing the  ears  of  all  around,  but  Madame  was  protesting 
in  high,  shrill  tones  whilst  he  swore  angrily,  threaten- 
ing to  kill  her  if  she  did  not  stop. 


318  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

"I  won't,"  she  cried.  "If  they  want  help,  it's  open 
day  and  night — the  house  with  the  blue  lamp — in 
the—" 

His  long  fingers  were  on  her  throat.  She  closed  her 
eyes.  She  knew  this  had  to  come.  She  had  dreamt  of 
it  so  often  that  the  reality  seemed  welcome. 

Welcome !  Life  which  was  so  horrible  held  no  charms 
for  her.  She  was  tired  and  growing  ugly — nearing  the 
gutter  hour  by  hour. 

Her  breath  came  short  and  sharp.  It  stopped.  She 
struggled  desperately.  Dying  was  terrible.  Once  be- 
fore she  had  felt  these  cold  waters  sucking  her  down. 
When?— 

Then  suddenly  she  was  lifted  up  and  sent  hurtling 
through  the  air.  Voices  fell  on  her  ears.  Madame  was 
bending  over  her.  She  had  fallen  against  the  lintel 
of  the  door.  Blood  was  oozing  from  her  cut  temple. 

"Are  you  mad,  Gaston?"  muttered  the  old  woman. 
"Do  you  want  to  kill?" 

"I  meant  to.  Dead  men  tell  no  tales,"  he  replied  sul- 
lenly, looking  down  into  Zoe's  wide-open  eyes  as  she 
prayed  almost  eagerly  for  him  to  complete  the  task. 

"I  want  no  murders  here,"  resumed  Madame.  "It's 
too  dangerous  for  you — also.  Go  down  and  have  a  co- 
gnac. You'll  feel  different  then.  I'll  see  to  the  girl." 

With  a  shudder,  Zoe  closed  her  eyes.  When  she 
opened  them  again  she  was  lying  on  her  own  bed  and 
daylight  flooded  the  room.  She  started  up  wonder- 
ingly;  but  sank  back  with  a  little  moan.  How  her 
head  ached!  A  young  woman,  whom  she  remembered 
meeting  on  the  stairs,  came  to  the  bedside.  She  smiled 
pleasantly. 

"Where's  Gaston?"  asked  Zoe. 

"Gone.  You  needn't  fear  him,  the  brute!  He 
cleared  off  this  morning." 

"Gone!     For  good.     And— and  left  me!" 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      319 

"Never  you  mind  that!  I've  told  Madame  I'd  look 
after  you.  I'm  Nell  the  Fascinator.  Everybody  knows 
me.  I  took  a  fancy  to  you  the  first  day.  And,  by  Gum, 
I  liked  the  way  you  stood  up  to  him — and  told  the  poor 
girl  what  to  do.  If  we  all  had  that  pluck — people  like 
him,  and  that  old  hag,  wouldn't  stand  any  chance — " 

But  Zoe  was  crying  weakly.  She  had  wanted  to  die. 
The  disappointment  of  finding  herself  in  the  dingy 
room,  overwhelmed  her  with  misery. 

It  was  about  five  o'clock  that  afternoon,  when  Dr. 
Burley  let  himself  into  his  hall  and  picked  up  the 
engagement  slate. 

"Please  go  at  once  to  a  dying  woman,  50,  Cash 
Street,"  he  read.  "H'm,  I  wonder  if  she's  dying. 
Christian,  what  about  this  message,  when  did  it  come?" 

A  man-servant  came  hurriedly  to  his  call.  It  was  an 
urgent  case.  The  woman  was  really  dying.  She  had 
had  an  accident,  they  said.  The  message  came  at  three 
o'clock.  But  wouldn't  the  doctor  have  tea  first?  It 
only  had  to  be  made.  The  tray  was  ready. 

"No — no — two  hours  may  have  made  a  difference, 
Christian.  She  may  be  dead — I'll  go  at  once." 

He  stepped  back  into  the  dingy  street.  He  lived  in 
a  slum,  having  elected  to  spend  his  life  amongst  the 
poor  who  are  so  often  left  to  the  mercy  of  indifferent 
healers.  And,  as  he  went  his  way  to  Cash  Street,  whose 
unsavory  reputation  he  knew  so  well,  he  wondered 
what  manner  of  woman  he  was  about  to  see.  Certainly 
an  outcast — some  unfortunate  who  had  been  mixed  up 
in  a  drunken  brawl.  He  sighed  heavily.  "When  wTould 
the  world  awaken  to  the  sufferings  of  these  unhappy 
creatures  ? 

He  was  surprised  when  he  was  shown  into  Zoe 's  room, 
for  the  face  he  looked  upon  was  so  different  to  that 
he  had  pictured.  Despite  the  ravages  wrought  by  drink, 


320  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

and  the  life  she  had  led,  he  saw  she  was  still  beautiful, 
still  refined  and  very  young.  Who  was  she? 

None  could  tell.  It  was  Nell  the  Fascinator  who,  re- 
membering what  he  had  done  for  her  in  a  severe  ill- 
ness, had  sent  for  him.  But  she  said  very  little.  In 
fact,  it  was  some  time  before  he  could  find  out  the  truth 
about  the  cut  brow.  Nell  would  say  nothing  about  it 
until  he  had  assured  her  that  it  had  not  caused  Zoe's 
collapse.  That  was  due  to  a  mixture  of  things.  Shock, 
drink,  the  life  she  had  led.  Her  whole  system  was 
ruined.  She  had  probably  lost  the  desire  to  live. 

' '  She  wasn  't  meant  for  this,  Doctor, ' '  said  Nell  sadly. 

"You  none  of  you  are,  Nell — if  it  comes  to  that." 

"Perhaps  not.  How's  a  poor  girl  to  live,  though — if 
she  can't  get  work — or  enough  wages  to  keep  her  body 
and  soul  together?  "Whilst  the  world  is,  as  it  is — " 

"Ah,  there  you  are,  my  friend.  Whilst  the  world 
refuses  to  hear — keeps  doors  and  windows  shut,  shuns 
light  and  air — as  long  as  the  sheltered  women  close 
their  ears,  to  stories  such  as  this  poor  girl  could  tell 
— or  refuse  to  warn  their  young — so  long  will  things 
be  as  they  are,  and — but,  how  long  has  she  been  in  this 
state?" 

"Since  noon.  At  first  I  thought  she  was  asleep.  But 
then  she  began  to  rave.  We  thought  she'd  never  come 
round,  but  when  she  did  she  seemed  fairly  bright.  Had 
a  good  fit  of  crying  first,  then  wanted  to  get  up.  But 
of  course  she  wasn't  fit  for  that,  and  was  glad  enough 
to  lie  down.  When  I  came  back  from  my  room  a  little 
later  she  was  writing  in  a  little  book — it's  under  her 
pillow — a  diary  I  should  think;  it  has  a  lock.  She 
said  she  kept  it  under  the  mattress  so's  he  shouldn't 
find  it—" 

"He?" 

"The  brute  that's  knocked  her  about.  He's  gone  now, 
thought  she  'd  die,  I  suppose.  Taken  all  her  bits  of  jew- 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME      321 

elry,  too.  That's  what  upset  her  before  she  went  queer. 
Poor  kid.  I  suppose  she's  got  nothing  but  her  clothes 
and—" 

' '  You  must  set  her  mind  at  rest,  Nell — when  she  comes 
round.  For  she'll  have  her  lucid  moments,  she  won't 
die  yet—" 

"Perhaps  she  won't  at  all?" 

"I  can't  say  that — she's  as  bad  as  she  can  be.  And 
there's  nothing  to  keep  her  back.  Get  her  to  tell  you 
if  she  has  friends.  She  must  belong  to  someone — a  girl 
like  that.  I'm  not  so  sure  I  oughtn't  to  send  her  into 
hospital,  but — it's  only  a  matter  of  a  day  or  two,  and 
if  you're  willing  to  look  after  her,  I'll  do  my  share. 
It's  a  pity  to  distress  her  more  by  moving  her — I'll 
speak  to  old  Madame." 

But  Madame  knew  no  more  than  anyone  else.  She 
was  only  a  lodging-house  keeper.  The  man  had  paid 
promptly — and  they  seemed  fond  of  each  other — no,  she 
didn't  know  where  he  had  gone  to.  Was  it  likely  she 
could  go  into  all  her  lodgers'  affairs  like  that?  If  the 
girl  was  going  to  be  ill  long  she'd  better  go  to  hospital 
— if  she  was  really  dying,  as  Nell  said,  well  the  sooner 
they  moved  her  out  the  better.  One  didn  't  want  deaths 
in  a  lodging  house.  Well  then,  if  that  was  impossible, 
who  was  going  to  look  after  her  and  pay  for  her  room? 

All  this,  and  more,  he  had  to  listen  to — assuring  her 
that  the  poor  girl  would  not  trouble  anyone  much 
longer,  and  that  he  and  Nell  would  do  all  that  was  re- 
quired. 

"And  if  she  dies?" 

"Ill  see  to  that — if  her  friends  don't  turn  up,"  he 
said.  After  all,  it  wouldn't  be  the  first  time  he  was  to 
act  as  guardian  and  chief  mourner.  Hadn't  he  devoted 
his  money,  as  well  as  his  career,  to  this  work?  He  went 
home  sadly  to  his  long-delayed  tea.  Who,  and  what, 
was  Zoe? 


322  THE  LURE  OF  THE  FLAME 

Two  days  later  he  knew.  She  had  been  able  to  tell 
enough  of  her  story  to  rouse  his  deepest  pity,  but  not 
enough  for  him  to  discover  if  she  had  friends.  That 
information  he  gathered  only  from  the  little  locked  diary 
and  packet  of  letters  she  gave  him  during  his  last  visit 
— after  he  had  answered  her  question,  whether  she  was 
really  going  to  die,  in  the  affirmative. 

' '  Thank  God ! ' '  she  exclaimed  her  shining  eyes  on  his 
grave  face.  "For  if  I  got  better — it  would  be  the  same 
thing  all  over  again.  I  didn't  want  to  be  wicked,  but 
I'm  a  White  Slave,  doctor,  oh,  not  in  the  way  you  mean 
but  just  as  bad.  I'm  like  a  fly  in  a  spider's  web.  I 
walked  in  willingly — but  now,  if  I  broke  loose  from 
most  of  the  threads,  there 'd  always  be  one  or  two  cling- 
ing to  me  to  draw  me  back — " 

And  then  she  produced  her  papers. 

"But — there's  one  thing  I  want  you  to  do — if  you 
will,  please.  These  tell  all  about  my  life — every  little 
thing,  I  think.  Perhaps  if  the  world  knew  it — it  would 
save  other  girls — from  walking  willingly  into  the  web — 
teach  their  people  how  to  warn  them  against  it.  That's 
all,  I  think." 

"All?    Is  there  no  one—" 

"No  one,  thank  you,  Doctor,"  she  murmured,  turning 
her  face  to  the  wall. 


THE  END 


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